


Second Chance

by songofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Human!Crowley, M/M, Slow Build, behind the scenes sastiel, but mostly drowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofhell/pseuds/songofhell
Summary: The Gates of Hell are closed with all demons locked inside, but it came at one hell of a price. Sam Winchester is dead – again – and Dean is as determined as ever to bring his little brother back, despite Castiel’s insistence that this time it truly is impossible.To make matters worse, Crowley is now human, and Dean can’t help but feel a certain sense of responsibility for the ex-demon… at least, he thinks that’s all it is.





	1. Determination Vs. Insanity

Some days you just know are going to be profound. Sometimes because of something you were anticipating, and then sometimes it’s just a gut feeling. The day Dean’s mom died, he’d woken up with that feeling. When his dad had gotten him the new game he’d been wanting, he’d figured that’d been why; until that night, when he held his brother in his arms and looked up at his home burning. Yeah, sometimes profound wasn’t necessarily good.

But today he and Sammy were locking up the gates of Hell for good, so Dean had little doubt that the gut feeling he had had that morning was an indicator of something profoundly good. They already had Crowley tied up, and they were all set to begin the third trial. What could go wrong?

Of course, Dean knew better than to ask that question, and that was why he was so set against leaving his brother’s side when Castiel showed up. Sam was confident that he had it all under control, though; and his best friend needed his help, so he agreed, despite his qualms.

The two of them recruited Kevin to figure out the last trial that Castiel needed to complete to seal up Heaven. Only, when Kevin found the angel trials in the tablet, the first two listed weren’t the trials Castiel had completed. Metatron was lying.

 “I had thought that this was my one chance to make things right in Heaven.” Castiel looked down, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well, nothing can be easy, can it?” Dean sighed. He knew all too well how things weren’t always as they appeared, and how good intentions could go horribly astray.

“I killed that Nephilim for nothing. Murdered her.”

“It’s not your fault, Cas,” he said firmly. “You were tricked.”

“Lately, it seems as though all I am capable of doing is making mistakes.”

“We all know that feeling. But you’re stopping before Metatron can get whatever it is he’s after. You have to focus on the victories, not get caught up on all that other shit.” He turned back to the prophet. “Kevin, you said there are actual angel trials in that tablet?”

“Yeah,” Kevin ran his finger down to a section of the tablet, presumably outlining the angel trials. “But it’ll take some time for me to translate them.”

“Well, Cas, it’s your choice.” He swung his head back to face the angel. “If you really want to lock up all the angels, you still have a shot. But… look, I don’t have a problem with it, but don’t do it just because some lying douchebag told you to. Make sure it really is your best option.”

Castiel nodded thoughtful. “You’re right. I need to consider it more before I go forward with it. Thank you for your help, Dean. If it were not for you, I would have done something stupid… again.”

“Anytime.” He clapped him on the back.

“So… you want me to hold off on translating?” Kevin asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Castiel, who nodded. “Yes, I shall inform you if I decide to go through with the trials.”

“Raincheck on being out of all this, then. Got it.”

“Sorry, kid,” Dean apologized.

Kevin shrugged. “Not sure what I’d be going back to at this point, anyway. I don’t think I can put ‘prophet’ on college applications.”

Dean nodded, his expression sympathetic. “Get some rest. You’ve earned it.” He turned back to Castiel. “Could you take me back to Sam? He should be wrapping everything up right about now.”

“Of course.” A moment later, they were standing in front of the church that he had left Sam and Crowley at. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some things that I need to figure out.”

“Yeah, talk to you later.”

Castiel inclined his head in farewell, before he flew away, leaving Dean to approach the church alone. He was a couple of feet away when a blinding light flared from within the building, forcing him to turn away, shielding his eyes.

He breathed out a slightly mystified sigh of relief as he turned cautiously back to the church, which once again looked completely normal. Well, that was that, he supposed. The only thing he could figure that light meant was end of the final trial – the closing of the gates of Hell. They had actually done it.

He strode into the building with a small smile on his face, only to have it wiped away when he saw his brother’s body lying motionless on the floor. “Sam!” he shouted, rushing over to him and falling to his knees. “Sammy!”

He shook his body, but there was no response. Holding his breath, he pressed his fingers to his pulse point – nothing. “No…. NO! Sammy, come on, no…” He pulled his body into his arms, tears sliding down his cheeks to fall on his brother’s head. “You can’t be… This wasn’t… Sammy, come on, _please…_ I need you.” His breath was coming in sobs as his grip around Sam’s corpse continued to tighten. “No… no…”

It was a minute before he remembered Crowley. He looked up at the chair beside him to see him still chained there, staring at his knees. _“What happened?”_ Dean demanded.

Crowley looked over to him with blank eyes, swallowing thickly before he began to speak in a slightly hoarse voice. “He… finished the trial… there was a light, and then he just dropped. He wasn’t doing too well through most of it, so… it’s possible it killed him.”

Wasn’t doing so well…. Dean remembered how weak Sam had been since he had started the trials, how sick he had seemed. It had been worrying Dean like crazy, but every time he had brought it up, Sam had insisted that he was fine – the trials took a lot out of him, even he couldn’t deny that, but he had been so sure that it wasn’t anything he couldn’t manage. Of course Dean had known that his brother had been feeling worse than he had let on, but he hadn’t imagined that the trials were _killing_ him. What Crowley said added up, though. Every trial took more out of him, and so the last one took everything. How could he have been so stupid to think that this would all wrap up with a big bow and a happy ending? When did anything in their lives ever work out like that? He was such an idiot.

Why had he let him do this? He hadn’t wanted Sam to be the one doing the trials in the first place, but he had let him talk him into it. He should have been more insistent, gone and killed a hellhound no matter what Sam had to say about it. But instead he had stood by and let his brother push himself until he died. This was his fault.

“There has to be something I can do,” he muttered. There was always something. Death never lasted forever for them. He’d find a way to bring him back; he’d done it before, and he’d do it again.

“Well… I have a feeling that a demon deal is out of the question.”

Dean glared at the ex-demon. “So you’re still a dick as a human, huh?”

Crowley looked away, training his eyes on the far wall. “Apparently. Then again, I did just have _everything_ taken from me, so… I might be a little bitter.”

“Really? You’re bitter about no longer being a demon?”

“I didn’t like being human the first time around. What makes you think I want a repeat? I didn’t ask for this! Didn’t ask to feel like…” His voice broke, so he settled for shaking his head, letting the sentence hang there.

“Well, you could be locked up in Hell right now. I’d take what I can get, if I were you.”

“Yes…. I hope all this was worth your brother dying.”

It only took three seconds for Dean to have a knife to Crowley’s throat, the latter of which simply stared up at him with dead eyes. “I’ll take it that it wasn’t.”

“I’d shut up now, if I were you,” he warned, increasing the pressure of the knife slightly.

Crowley’s eyes flickered down to the knife, then back up to the hunter’s face. “You won’t kill me. I’m _human,_ and you’re not a murderer.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly stable right now.” But Crowley was right, as much as he wanted to in that moment, he couldn’t kill him. He gritted his teeth together as he slid the knife back into his jacket, and then turned away, sinking down next to Sam once again. “Cas,” he prayed. “I know you have a lot going on right now, but I really need you.”

“What is it, Dean?” Dean spun around as Castiel’s voice came from the doorway.

“It’s Sam,” he spoke in a choked voice, shifting so that the body was visible from where the angel stood. “The trials, they…”

Castiel was already kneeling down beside him, reaching out a hand to rest on Sam’s forehead. “I am sorry, Dean,” his voice seemed even rougher than usual. “There is nothing I can do.”

“But there has to be something – some way to bring him back.”

Castiel shook his head. “It was the trials that killed him – trials designed by God. There is no undoing this.”

“No, I don’t believe that,” he spat vehemently.

“I wish it was not the case.”

“Just because you don’t know a way to bring him back, doesn’t mean there’s not one out there!”

“Dean, I love your brother too, but some things _are_ impossible.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.

Castiel looked at him with sad eyes. “I can help you take care of his body – prepare a hunter’s funeral.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Cause I’m gonna find a way to bring him back.”

“There’s not-”

“And I don’t give a damn what you have to say about it! I’m not burning his body, Cas, so you can either help me preserve it, or I’ll find a way myself.”

Castiel sighed. “Very well, then. It will not be difficult for me to preserve his body. Shall I take him to the bunker?”

“Yeah.”

A moment later, both Sam’s body and Castiel were gone, and Dean was finding it difficult to remember how to move.

“There’s a fine line between determination and insanity.”

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“I’m just saying,” Crowley muttered half-heartedly.

“We’ve both died multiple times – there’s always a way out.”

“Yes, demon deals or angels. Demons are permanently out of the picture, thanks to you two, and the angel on your shoulder says that option is void, too.”

“Then I’ll find another way.”

“Like I said, insanity.”

Dean finally managed to get to his feet and turned to face the other.

“So… what are you going to do with me?” Crowley asked slightly hesitantly.

“Let you go. Like you said, you’re human. Not my problem anymore.” He unchained him and he got to his feet, brushing himself off as he continued to avoid looking at Dean.

“And where exactly am I supposed to go?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.”

Crowley finally looked up at him, a mix between disgust and disbelief written clearly across his face. “So let me get this straight, you and your brother unmake me, take away everything I hold dear, and now you throw me out on the street? With nothing? So much for being one of the good guys.”

“Never claimed to be.” He fixed Crowley with a cold gaze until the ex-demon turned and walked away. He paused briefly at the edge of the devil’s trap, but then continued on, not stopping until he reached the door.

He stood there, looking outside for a few moments, before he glanced back over his shoulder. “I don’t suppose you could at least give me a ride?”

Dean was ready to say ‘hell no,’ but then he caught the look in Crowley’s eyes. It was a look he knew had been in his own eyes a number of times, a look that screamed that he was lost, that he had nothing left, and that he didn’t have the slightest idea where to go from here. Hell, it was like everything he was currently feeling was being reflected back at him. Maybe the guy did have a point. Dean sighed. “Fine, but wherever I’m taking you, it needs to be on my way.”

“Not a problem,” he muttered, more to himself than to Dean. “I haven’t the slightest idea where to go, anyway.”


	2. Guilt and Sympathy

As far as awkward car rides went, this one definitely made Dean’s top ten. It was a good few miles before they reached any kind of civilization, and during that time Crowley just stared out the window, while Dean attempted to focus his attention to the lyrics of ‘Hell’s Bells’ to avoid getting caught up in his thoughts. He quickly realized that as far as songs to distract himself from the current situation went, it was one of the worst, so he shut off the radio a minute in. The resulting silence served to make everything that much more awkward.

He was pretty sure that Crowley was pissed at him, blaming him for his current predicament. Not that he cared that a former demon was mad at him, even if he did have a point. Why should Dean feel bad for him after all he had done? It was either this or kill him. And besides, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t take it all back, given the chance. Between shutting up Hell and having his brother alive and well, he’d take his brother in a heartbeat.

Finally, the glowing windows of buildings began appearing through the windshield and he had a reason to break the horrible silence. “I’ll drop you off at the first hotel we come to. Sound good?”

“You might as well just drop me off here,” Crowley spoke tonelessly. “I won’t be able to get a room.”

“You don’t have any money?”

“Money’s not exactly necessary when you’re a demon. I did have some set aside, but the demons guarding it will have been forced to vacate their meatsuits, and I can’t imagine the humans will be too willing to give me the small fortune they’re now in possession of.”

“Oh…” Dean thought that over. “Okay, what if I drop you off at a gas station and give you money for a cab?”

Crowley slowly turned his head to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “To go where, exactly?”

“You have to live somewhere, don’t you?”

His eyes darted down. “Yes… an old, abandoned asylum…. You know, somehow it’s not quite so inviting as a human.”

Dean sighed as he pulled up to a stoplight, running a hand over his face. “So there’s _nowhere_ that you can go?”

“I believe I already said that.”

“And you have no ideas to contribute here?”

“If I did, I would have already contributed them.”

The light turned green and Dean accelerated past the hotel on their right. He couldn’t leave someone to fend for themselves when they had no way to do so – even if that person was Crowley. If he was still a demon, sure, it’d be no problem, but he was a human being, and he was in his current state because of what he and Sam had done. So, what other option was there? Okay, that was a pretty easy question to answer, actually; he just didn’t want to acknowledge that option. But he didn’t know what else he could do.

“Alright,” he sighed. He really didn’t have a choice.

Crowley arched an eyebrow at him. “Alright?”

“There’s lots of extra rooms in the bunker. You can stay there for tonight.”

Now both of his eyebrows shot up. “You live in a _bunker?_ Actually, never mind, that’s really not that surprising…. You’re letting me stay there?”

Dean actually chuckled a bit. “Well, you have nowhere else to go.”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

He grimaced. “Doesn’t mean I can just turn you lose on the street.”

“Technically you can,” he pointed out softly.

Dean shook his head. “Not in my book.”

“Well…” He turned to look out the windshield. “Looks like you are the good guy, after all. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. “Since when did you get all… grateful?”

Crowley’s eyes flickered to him and then away again. “You’re helping me. I’m grateful. Isn’t that how it works?”

“But it’s not just grateful, you’re being… I dunno, _pleasant…_ ish.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, you’re helping me, so I currently have reason to be.”

Okay, human Crowley was definitely going to take some getting used to. Not that he _would_ be getting used to him. He probably wouldn’t see him again after tomorrow. “Okay, well, don’t think this is a long-term fix. It’s just for one night.”

“And then what?”

“Dunno. Sleep on it and figure it out in the morning.”

He sighed. “That’s better than nothing, I suppose.”

“Damn right.”

They drove for another couple of minutes in a silence that wasn’t quite as awkward as it had been earlier, before Crowley spoke up again. “So… where did you get a bunker?”

“It belonged to a secret organization that my grandfather was a part of, and now all the members are dead, so it’s not like anyone else is using it.”

“A top-secret bunker, then. Well… I’m surprised you’re letting me in.”

Dean shrugged. “You’re human. What does it matter?”

“Just didn’t figure you’d trust me, even as a human.”

“I don’t. But I don’t think you can do much harm, either.”

Crowley looked down at his lap. “Not trustworthy _and_ weak… you sure know how to hit a guy when he’s down, Winchester.”

“Don’t try to get me to feel bad for you, Crowley,” Dean snapped. “Being human doesn’t erase all the shit you’ve done.”

Crowley was silent for so long that Dean began to think he wasn’t going to respond. “I know,” he finally muttered quietly.

Dean’s gaze snapped over to him to see that he was back to staring out the side window. He couldn’t see his expression, but he was pretty sure he didn’t need to to know the look on his face. Shit. Now he really _did_ feel bad for him. He opened his mouth, but he wasn’t sure what he could say. Maybe apologize, but he wasn’t sure he was willing to stoop to that. So instead he refocused his full attention on the road and drove on in silence until they reached the bunker.

Crowley looked around the garage as he got out of the car. “Secret organization of car collectors?”

“Not exactly. They were called the Men of Letters.”

He nodded vaguely. “I’ve heard of them.”

“You know,” Dean mused as he walked around to the other side of the Impala. “We don’t drive any of these, and you need a car, so… I see no reason you shouldn’t take one.”

“Thanks.” His eyes scanned over the different cars before he pointed at an old Bentley. “How ‘bout that one?”

“It’s yours.”

The corners of his lips curled up into a forced smile. “Well, at least I have _something_ now.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, earning him a confused look. “Way to look on the bright side. Come on, let’s go find you a room.”

He led Crowley into the bunker, a part of him unable to believe that he was actually letting _Crowley_ set foot in here, even though he was human now. And clearly he wasn’t the only one with that mindset.

“What the hell is _he_ doing here?” Kevin leapt to his feet, his eyes wide with shock and anger as the two of them entered the war room.

“Uh…” Dean glanced back at Crowley to see that his eyes were fixed on the floor, his hands shoved in his pockets. “He’s human now,” he explained, turning back to the prophet.

“So? I don’t care what he is! He killed my mom!”

“Look-”

“I didn’t,” Crowley muttered.

Dean’s gaze snapped back to him, his eyebrows furrowed, as Kevin demanded, “What?”

“I didn’t kill your mom. I just… had to take away your hope.” He took a deep breath as he looked up, making eye-contact with Kevin. “I kept her in a storage locker, along with a few other hostages I had taken.”

Kevin drew in a shaky breath as he shook his head slightly. “Am I supposed to be okay with you being here now? Because you only held my mom as prisoner, tortured her like you did me?”

“I can give you the address. The demon guarding the lockers will be gone now – you’ll have no problems getting her back.”

He hesitated. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m sorry. I’m not a demon anymore. I want to give back what I took from you… fix what little I can.”

His eyes were narrowed, but he nodded. “Alright, give me the address.”

Dean watched Crowley curiously as he gave Kevin the address to the storage lockers. It was odd to see, but it legitimately did look like Crowley felt guilty for what he had done. And that was something Dean had never thought possible, even with Crowley as a human. Huh, it looked like he did have a heart, after all.

“So, I’ll take it the trials worked?” Kevin asked Dean after he was finished copying down the address and locker numbers.

Dean breathed out a huff of air as he trained his gaze on the wall to his left. “Sorta.”

Kevin frowned. “What do you mean ‘sorta’? What happened?”

He chewed on his bottom lip, not wanting to say the words. “Sam died when he completed the trial.”

“Sam…” he breathed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. “Dean, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Dean sighed. “I’ll get him back.”

“How?”

“I’ll find a way.” He brought his desperate gaze back to Kevin. “Hey, I know your first priority is getting your mom back, and I get that, but… before you go, could you check the tablet? See if there’s anything in there about death from the trials? It could help.”

“Dean, my mom’s trapped out there.”

“Yeah, but you can’t set out tonight. It’s late. Just… see what you can find. Please.”

Kevin sighed. “Fine.” He sat down, pulling the tablet over to him.

“Thank you.” Dean turned back to Crowley. “Come on, rooms are this way.” He led him down the hall, to the bedroom beside his. He figured it would probably be best to keep him close, just in case he tried to pull anything. “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” Crowley muttered as he stepped inside and glanced around.

Dean had meant to turn around and leave, but he found himself lingering in the doorway. “Why’d you do that?” he asked curiously.

Crowley didn’t turn around. “Do what?”

“Tell Kevin where to find his mom.”

He turned to face him with raised eyebrows. “Why not?”

“Well, I thought we’d already established that you’re still a dick.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean… never mind.” He shook his head, looking away.

Dean watched him for a moment. “You feel guilty, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer for a minute. “Don’t you?”

“What?”

He met his eyes. “Feel guilty about the souls you tortured in Hell?”

Dean’s eyes hardened. “That’s different.”

“You were well on your way to becoming a demon, squirrel – it’s not that different.”

He turned away; he really didn’t care for that comparison, and didn’t want to lend much thought to it. “Whatever. Get some sleep, Crowley.” He pulled the door shut behind him and made his way to the library. There was no way he’d be able to get any sleep, so he may as well dive into research. With any luck, he’d find a way to revive Sam by morning.


	3. Research and Nightmares

“Dean, I’m telling you, there’s nothing here,” Kevin reiterated for the fourth time.

Dean sighed. “Read it word-for-word.”

“Alright, the translation’s a bit weird, but… ‘Once bathed in blood of hound of Hell, the soul innocent pulled from Hell to deliver unto Heaven, the affliction of demon cleansed out of Hell’s own, then after the ultimate sacrifice made and the Gates of Hell be closed for eternity.’”

 “And then what?”

“That’s it. After that it just goes into Metatron saying that he’s leaving the tablets to humanity.”

He ran a hand over his face. “‘The ultimate sacrifice…’ that has to mean death, right? How didn’t you see that before?”

“It’s not like reading a book! You told me to translate the trials ASAP, and that’s what I did. You didn’t exactly give me time to continue onto the epilogue.”

“Right… sorry, I’m just…”

“I get it. It sucks, and I wish I had caught it. But… do you really think you can bring him back? I think that ‘eternity’ bit was referring to both the gates being closed and the sacrifice.”

“Yeah, well, death for eternity has never meant much to Sammy and me. I’ll get him back.”

Kevin nodded. “Good luck, then. Do you mind if I turn in? I want to set out first thing in the morning, and I’d like to get at least a couple hours of sleep.”

“Course. Thanks for the help. And good luck finding your mom; call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” he said as he got to his feet. “Keep me posted on Sam.”

“I’ll call you first thing after he’s back.”

He began to make his way to the hall, but stopped, looking over his shoulder at Dean. “Hey, I know how much you want Sam back, but don’t obsess over it, okay? He wouldn’t want you to lose yourself in this.”

Dean’s expression turned slightly irritable. “Thanks for the advice, but I know what I’m doing.”

Kevin sighed, nodding sadly. “Right. Well, since I probably won’t see you in the morning. Goodbye, Dean.”

“Yeah.” He was already flipping open another book and scanning through the table of contents. “See ya.”

He never bothered to keep track of time when he got into moods like these. He was generally a pretty single-minded person, and that was particularly true when Sam needed him. So, the time was forgotten, the fact that he needed sleep was forgotten; there were just the books in front of him. Therefore, he had no idea how long he had been sitting there before there was a flurry of wings and Castiel appeared beside him.

“Where’ve you been?” Dean asked distractedly, hardly glancing up from the book when the angel appeared.

“First, I was ensuring that Sam’s body will be well preserved, and then I wanted to see to it that Metatron was taken care of.” He stepped closer to the table, looking at all of the books spread over it with a frown. “It is two in the morning, and as you have reminded me several times, humans require sleep. Why are you still awake?”

“I have to find a way to bring Sam back.”

“You won’t find anything in there.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. You won’t find anything in any of these books because there is no solution to be found. This is one tragedy that even you can’t stubborn your way out of.”

Dean turned the page a little too forcefully, causing it to tear slightly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cas, but I didn’t ask your opinion.”

“Dean, I know that you don’t want to think about the possibility that Sam is gone for good, but throwing yourself into delusions that you can bring him back will only make the inevitable hurt that much more.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Dean finally looked up, meeting Castiel’s eyes. “Sam is my _brother,_ and there is _nothing_ that I won’t do to bring him back. And I guess that angels just aren’t capable of feeling things like humans, so I wouldn’t expect you to understand the lengths someone will go to for the people they love.”

Castiel’s eyes hardened to a glare. “Don’t you _dare_ say that I do not understand love. After everything that I have done for you and your brother – everything that I have sacrificed for the two of you. I have loved just as fiercely as any human, and I have lost just as much as you have. I would do anything for Sam, too, including talking his brother off a path that will bring him _nothing but pain._ Sam would not wish for you to drive yourself to insanity in a hopeless attempt to find a way to bring him back.”

“It’s not hopeless,” Dean protested firmly.

“Yes, it is, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, you always gave up easily,” he muttered bitterly, returning his attention to the book.

“I know that your method of grieving tends to result in you lashing out at your friends, so I will ignore that. You should get some sleep. We will continue this conversation when you are better rested.”

Dean continued glaring down at the book as Castiel flew away. What did he know? Castiel had been wrong before, and he was wrong about this. He had to be.

But the argument with Castiel had left his blood boiling, and that combined with his lack of sleep was making it hard to focus on research. After reading the same line six times and still not processing it, he began thinking that maybe he should get some sleep. Of course, the fact that Castiel had told him that he needed sleep made him that much more opposed to the idea, but after another couple re-reads that still got him nowhere, he finally gave in.

He pulled out his phone to check the time as he got to his feet. 2:43. So, if he slept as well as he anticipated he would tonight, he’d get three hours of sleep max, meaning he’d be waking up at around six at the latest and could get back to his research then. Could be worse.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and started off down the hall to his room. He paused in front of the room Crowley was sleeping in, thinking he ought to check in on him, just to be safe. Human or not, Crowley having free range in the bunker made him a bit uneasy.

He cracked open the door, and upon seeing that Crowley was asleep in bed, he nearly pulled it shut again and continued on to his room. But then he saw how badly he was tossing around and heard the muttered pleas. He was having a nightmare, and a pretty bad one by the looks of it.

Dean hesitated. It was Crowley, what he dreamed about was none of his business. And he had just been cured of being a demon, of course he was having nightmares. Hell, he probably deserved to have nightmares. It was nothing for Dean to concern himself with.

“Please,” Crowley cried, twisting himself up in his blankets. “No. No.”

Dammit. Why couldn’t he just do the sensible thing for once?

He walked into the room, stopping at the side of Crowley’s bed. “Crowley.”

“No, please…”

“Crowley,” Dean said again, reaching out to shake his shoulder gently.

Crowley awoke with a start, wide eyes immediately locking on Dean, and then he propelled himself backwards, hitting his head against the wall.

“Woah, hey.” Dean held his hands up placatingly. “It’s me, you’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Crowley took a deep breath, blinking rapidly as he seemed to come back to reality. “Ow,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, that’s what you get for freaking out on me and ramming your head against the wall.”

Crowley glared at him sourly. “I thought you were… never mind.”

Dean’s expression softened. “Yeah, nightmares suck.”

Crowley frowned at him briefly before his gaze moved to the blanket he was wrapped in. “I’m not used to dreaming. I know I did once, but that was _centuries_ ago. I didn’t remember what it was like, how _real_ everything felt. I wish there was a way to get rid of them.”

“Tell me about it.” He hesitated. “Do you… d’you want some water, or something?”

Crowley looked up at him in mild surprise. “Um… yes?”

The corner of Dean’s lips quirked up at Crowley’s confusion. “I’ll be right back.”

Really, Crowley was right to be confused, Dean thought as he made his way to the kitchen. Hell, _he_ was confused. He had no idea why he felt compelled to help Crowley. Was it because he felt guilty? If they hadn’t cured him, it would have been some other demon, and then Crowley would have wound up locked up in Hell for all eternity. Being human sucked, but it was definitely better than Hell. So, it wasn’t like he owed Crowley anything. If anything, Crowley owed _him._ And yet he still couldn’t shake the notion that Crowley was his responsibility.

He filled up a cup with water, and after a second’s thought, grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. It wasn’t like he’d be taking care of Crowley indefinitely, he reminded himself. He was just here for the night; the next morning he’d be gone and he’d never see or hear from him again.

 _So, you won’t know if anything happens to him,_ a voice that sounded an awful lot like Sam echoed in his mind. _He has nothing, he’s bound not to live a very good life. But hey, out of sight, out of mind, right? If he dies, at least he’ll be put out of his misery, and you won’t know it happened, so you’ll never have to feel guilty. Just hope that you don’t catch it in the news, or something. Then it’ll be another thing to add to the list of things you’ll never forgive yourself for._

He shook his head. Crowley had a survivor’s instinct. He’d be fine.

_Just keep telling yourself that._

He walked back into Crowley’s room, seeing that he had managed to extricate himself from the wad of blankets he had been bundled in, and was now sitting with them spread over his legs. Dean set the drinks down on the nightstand, and Crowley raised his eyebrows at the beers. “Alcohol doesn’t necessarily take away dreams,” Dean explained. “But it helps with coping.”

“Well. That doesn’t sound like a self-destructive coping mechanism, at all.” But he picked up a beer, anyway.

“I never claimed not to be self-destructive.”

“Or to have good taste in alcohol, apparently,” he muttered in distaste after taking a drink.

Dean arched an eyebrow at him. “Hey, you don’t have to drink it.”

He didn’t say anything, but took another drink.

Dean rolled his eyes as he grabbed the other beer and moved to sit at the foot of the bed. He could feel Crowley’s eyes on him, and he knew he was probably back to looking confused, but Dean didn’t look at him to confirm the theory. He still had no idea what he was doing, only that he didn’t feel right leaving just yet.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Crowley finally asked.

Dean shrugged. “Still trying to work that out,” he answered honestly.

Crowley scoffed. “Guess I’m not the only one feeling guilty.”

He turned to him with a glare. “I do _not_ feel guilty. If we hadn’t cured you, you’d be trapped in Hell right now, and I know from experience what the worse option there is.”

Crowley went silent, and Dean turned away again as they both continued drinking their beers. Eventually, Crowley spoke up hesitantly. “Do you ever… are you ever haunted by the faces of the people you tortured down there?”

Dean blinked at Crowley in surprise at the question before he pieced together what had brought it on. “Yeah,” he sighed. “It was worse right when I got back, but I still have the dreams.”

“What are they like for you?”

He hesitated. He didn’t want to talk about this, least of all with Crowley. _But Crowley’s the one person who would understand,_ that voice pointed out. _You’ve been keeping it all to yourself for so long. At least Crowley’s smart and is trying to talk about it. You should follow his lead._ Before he even came to a conscious decision, he realized he was already talking, his eyes locked on the floor. “Mostly… it’s just me torturing them – Alastair pointing out how much I’m enjoying it, how much it suits me….” He swallowed thickly. “And then my victim will turn into someone I know – usually Sam… and I’ll keep going.” He took a deep breath, shaking his head to get the image out of his head. “What about yours?” he asked, looking back over to Crowley.

He licked his lips nervously as he looked down at his lap. “It was my victims coming after me… some in a group, some individually… all wanting their revenge.”

“Yeah, I’ve had that one, too,” Dean nodded. “Especially with the people I’ve gotten killed…”

Crowley’s gaze snapped up again, his expression desperate. “So the nightmares never stop?”

He shook his head sadly. “Not really.”

Crowley looked like he might be sick. “How do you do it?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”


	4. Faults and Visits

When Dean eventually settled down in his own bed, he slept just about as well as Crowley had been sleeping – tossing and turning from the inescapable onslaught of nightmares. He dreamed that he was in the church as Sam finished the trial, that he was powerless to do anything as he watched his brother die. Then, the dream shifted, and Sam was yelling at him for letting him do the trials.

“I tried to do them myself, Sam!” he argued desperately, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Oh yeah, you tried so hard,” Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “If you _really_ didn’t want to put me through this, you would have gone and hunted down another hellhound.”

“I tried-”

“No, you didn’t, Dean! I felt obligated to offer to take on the trials myself – like I had to prove something to you, just like always – and you just _let_ me. It seems like whenever it’s something I care about, you don’t care what I have to say on the matter, you do things your way. But not with this, not when I _wanted_ you to take this from me! It hurt so bad. It was like I was dying from the moment I killed that hellhound – long, drawn out, and painful.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” he sobbed. “I didn’t know.”

“Really? You knew I was hurting. It was obvious. You know, I’m starting to think this was what you really wanted. You wanted me to suffer, all because I didn’t look for you when you were in Purgatory.”

“Sammy, no-”

“I bet you were happy when Cas said there was no way to bring me back. That way you can still say you’re better than me by searching for something you know you’ll never find.”

“I’m not better than you.”

“No. You’re not.” Sam’s gaze was ice cold as he looked down at him. “You let me die doing what _you_ should have been doing. Nothing can make up for that.”

Suddenly, Sam collapsed, and Dean looked down at his hand to see himself holding the knife covered in his brother’s blood. “No. _No!”_ he shouted.

He woke with a start, the cry of _“No!”_ still on his lips. It was just a dream, he told himself as he attempted to return his breathing to normal. Except it wasn’t. Sam was dead, and it was his fault. He had fought with Sam on so many things throughout their lives, refusing to back down. _Why_ had backed down when it came to the trials? How could he have let Sam go through with them? It should have been him in that church. He should have been the one to die. Sam probably would have been better off without him, anyway.

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand to check the time. 5:36. He should probably try to get some more sleep, but the thought of enduring one more second of nightmares was more than he could take. He’d just have to function on the amount of sleep he’d gotten.

He went to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee to get him through at least the first part of the day, then he dove back into research.

It was about an hour later when the sound of footsteps reminded him of the presence of his houseguest. Crowley turned the corner into the library, looking just as bad as Dean was sure he looked.

“Couldn’t sleep, either, I take it?” he asked as he came to a stop beside the table Dean was seated at.

“Nope,” Dean muttered, only glancing up briefly before returning his attention to the book in front of him. “You end up getting anymore sleep?”

“Not really,” he said with a grimace that told Dean that the only thing he had gotten was more nightmares. “Any luck finding a way to bring Sam back?”

“Not yet. But I _will_ find a way.”

Crowley didn’t comment as his eyes shifted around the room. “I don’t suppose you have anything to eat? I forgot what it felt like to be hungry, and I’ve just realized I’m starving.”

“I’m sure there’s something in the kitchen you can make.” His stomach rumbled at the mention of food, but he wasn’t about to pull himself away from saving Sam.

“Make? Dean, I haven’t had any need to cook in three centuries. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do in a kitchen.”

“Fine,” Dean sighed, glaring at Crowley as he stood. “I’ll make us something.”

Crowley silently followed him into the kitchen, taking a seat at the counter as Dean started getting out what he would need.

“So… what are you making?” Crowley asked after a few seconds.

Dean threw him an exasperated look. “Eggs and bacon. If that’s suitable, your highness,” he added with a slight sneer.

Crowley’s eyes narrowed to a glare. “Don’t call me that,” he snapped, his voice breaking slightly.

Dean didn’t say anything as he turned away, but that guilt was churning in his stomach again. Crowley wasn’t trying to pull him away from saving Sam; it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how to go about being human. Dean shouldn’t be taking out his frustrations on him, however irritating he had always had the tendency to be.

He was still too stubborn to apologize, though, so he settled for saying, “There’s some coffee brewed, if you want some.”

Crowley wordlessly got up and poured himself a mug of coffee, then moved to sit at the table, clearly wanting to put some more distance between himself and Dean. Yeah, he had definitely hit a nerve.

Dean finished up the eggs and bacon, then dished up two plates, one of which he carried over to Crowley.

“Here you go,” he tried to inject more kindness into his voice as he handed him his plate.

“Thank you,” Crowley replied coolly.

The effort clearly wasn’t good enough, not that Dean was particularly surprised. He sighed as he refilled his mug of coffee, then grabbed his own plate and took a seat across from Crowley. The other man raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t comment.

“Look, Crowley,” Dean said after the silence had stretched on for too long. “I know it’ll take some adjusting to humanity, but you’ll get there.”

“Get there? Where is ‘there’?” Crowley exploded. “What the hell am I supposed to do with myself, Dean?”

“Well… surely you gained some useful skills,” he suggested. “Find a way to utilize them in the human world.”

“Yes, I’m sure King of Hell will look impressive on a resume,” he sighed.

“Oh, I’m sure you could find a way to word it to make it work,” Dean teased with a small grin. “Obviously leave off the torture and killing, but I’m sure that being able to lead some of the worst listeners in the world is considered a valuable skill in most organizations.”

Crowley seemed to relax slightly as one corner of his mouth twitched up. “Thanks for the advice,” he said wryly.

“You were human once, though, right?” he asked more seriously. “Maybe you can use stuff from then?”

“Dean, I died in 1723, and I was a tailor and a drunk.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure being a tailor doesn’t have a lot of job requirements – and I know being a drunk doesn’t.”

“I’d prefer not to be either. Though right now drunk is looking pretty likely. I have no money, no job…. For all intents and purposes, I don’t exist, and I don’t even know how to bloody cook.” He stabbed his egg forcefully.

“Cooking’s not so bad. I can probably teach you a thing or two.”

“Great. Now, if only I had money for food and a place to cook it.”

“You’ll figure something out, Crowley,” Dean assured.

“What if I don’t?”

He opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Because that was the possibility that he had been trying very hard not to think about. What if Crowley couldn’t figure out a way to live on his own? What if he ended up starving to death, or some other awful thing happened to him?

But people died every day; they weren’t Dean’s responsibility. He protected people from supernatural threats, and that was as far as his jurisdiction went, as far as he was concerned. Just because he knew Crowley, it didn’t mean that he would be getting special treatment. After all, he had done some pretty terrible things. He wasn’t his responsibility.

Then why did he feel so damn guilty?

Before he had a chance to think any more on the subject, there was a rustle of wings, and Castiel appeared beside the table. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked between the two men. “Crowley? What are you doing here?”

“Dean was kind enough to provide me with lodgings for the night. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be gone in a matter of hours.”

Dean’s stomach clenched uncomfortably at the defeat in Crowley’s voice, but he tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the angel to his left. “What are you doing here, Cas?” he asked, his voice cold. If he was back here to continue his campaign that Sam should stay dead, it just might be worth breaking his hand to punch him in the face.

“I wanted to speak with you…” His gaze flickered back to Crowley briefly. “Privately.”

Dean sighed as he got to his feet. “Fine.”

Castiel followed him out to the library, then Dean rounded on him. “I hope you’re not here to try to convince me to let Sam stay dead.”

Castiel’s expression was sympathetic. “Dean, it is not about you letting him do anything,” he said gently. “There is nothing you can do.”

“And what about you?” he snapped. “You won’t even try to help me!”

“Because it is impossible. Besides, it is not what Sam would want.”

“You don’t know what Sam would want,” he argued coolly.

“Yes, I do. I have just returned from speaking with him.”

Dean blinked, the surprise washing the anger from his face. “What?”

“As Sam is in Heaven, I am able to visit him-”

“Did you tell him I’m bringing him back?” His desperation to have Sam know that he was sorry, to know that he was going to make things right, chased every other thought from his mind. “What did he say?” He remembered the Sam from his dream, and his chest tightened. Hopefully he didn’t blame him too much.

Seeing the desperation in Dean’s eyes, Castiel reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I told him that you are determined to try, and he wishes you wouldn’t.”

“Only because you told him that it was impossible, I’m guessing,” he snapped, pushing the angel’s arm away. “Very nice, Cas, manipulating my dead brother to back you up.”

He frowned deeply. “That is not what I am doing, at all. I had not yet told him that it was impossible before the requested that I ask you to stop. He said that he is happy in Heaven, is happy in his death, and that all he wants is for you to enjoy the rest of your life.”

“How can you stand there and say that to me?!” Dean demanded, his rage back in full swing. “I’ve been to Heaven, I know what it’s like there, and everything he’s experiencing is a load of shit. You can’t go from saying you care about him, to claiming that he’s better off there!”

“He is, though.” Castiel’s voice remained calm, as though he was hoping that if he were calm, Dean would become so, too. “He is finally able to have peace. When I saw him-”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Cas.” He shook his head, looking away from him. “I don’t want to hear about you having tea parties with my brother in Heaven.”

“We are not having tea parties, but I do apologize. I know it is not fair to you that I get to see him, when you don’t.”

“Not fair?” His fierce gaze snapped back to him, and he took a step forward. “What’s not fair is that Sam had to _die_ to do a good thing! Once again, he does everything he can to be a GOOD PERSON, to do something that _your_ God would want him to do, AND HIS REWARD IS DEATH! WHY CAN’T WE CATCH A FREAKIN’ BREAK?!”

“Dean-”

“Just get the hell out of here.”

Castiel hesitated for just a moment before nodding sadly and flying off. Dean let out a half-sob as he leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor. Castiel was just being selfish. He had Sam in Heaven, so he didn’t care if those on Earth had him. Why couldn’t he see that this was where Sam belonged?


	5. Identity and Support

Dean took a few seconds to collect himself before he got to his feet and walked back into the kitchen. Crowley was still in his seat, looking up at him with raised eyebrows. “Well, that sounded like a nice, relaxing chat.”

Dean huffed as he reclaimed his seat, picking up his fork and stabbing angrily at an egg. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to gather that Castiel still isn’t on board with your quest to bring your brother back.”

“Not in the slightest,” he ground out, shaking his head. “I just don’t get what his problem is. I mean, doesn’t he realize that I’ve just lost _everything?_ Why can’t he just… stand with me on this? Help me out?” He sighed, glancing briefly at Crowley before looking back down at his plate. He didn’t know what he was doing, talking about his problems with _Crowley_ of all people – he just knew that it was looking like no one else would listen to him.

They sat in silence for a few seconds before Crowley cleared his throat. “I’ll tell you what – you help me get my life together, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you get Sam back.”

Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes growing wide. “You’d do that?”

He shrugged. “I have nothing better to do. I have nothing _else_ to do. I might as well help how I can. As you said, I’ve gained some useful skills.”

Dean didn’t have to think twice. “Thank you,” he said fervently. Working on his own always felt like he was drowning, fighting against the current to pull his head above water and find the solution. Having someone by his side, though – even if that someone was Crowley – made a world of difference.

“You are going to have to help me out too, though,” Crowley reminded him.

“Course,” Dean nodded. And then there was the added bonus of not having to feel guilty about Crowley, anymore. “You can stay here as long as you need, and I’ll take you to get some things.”

“’Preciated.”

So, a couple hours later found Dean in one of the last situations he ever thought he’d be in – walking through Walmart with Crowley.

“Okay, let’s start with clothes,” Dean was saying as he pushed the cart over to men’s clothing, with Crowley following behind him. “Just grab a few things to get you by for now.” He turned to find Crowley regarding the clothing selection with an expression of upmost distaste. “What?” he demanded.

“The material is cheap, the style is awful… I don’t see a single item that’s salvageable.”

Dean sighed as he shifted to face Crowley more fully. “Okay, I get that you used to be a king who didn’t have to worry about money, but that’s not the case anymore. You need to start thinking about what you’ll be able to _afford._ Or currently, what _I_ can afford – which ain’t much.”

Crowley gave him a mildly dirty look, but continued looking through the aisles of clothes. After what felt to Dean like far too long to be looking through clothes, Crowley returned to the cart with what had to be the most expensive clothing Walmart had to offer.

“Really, Crowley?”

“What?” He looked down at the clothing he had laid in the cart, then back up at Dean, seemingly honestly confused by the hunter’s reaction. “I don’t like them, but it was the best I could find.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I promise, you can survive on cheaper clothing.”

“This _is_ cheap!”

“Alright, here,” he sighed exasperatedly as he picked up all of the shirts Crowley had picked out. “Pick one. Replace the others with cheaper options. I’m not loaded here, okay?”

Crowley grumbled all the way through making his reselections, but he did it – first with the shirts, then jackets, then pants, then shoes.

“I suppose my underwear is too expensive, too?” he snapped as he resigned himself to getting only one pair of shoes.

“Your underwear is fine. Let’s move on.” Dean ran a hand over his face, already exhausted. Hopefully toiletries would be easier.

“Okay, I don’t know how much need for toiletries you had as a demon, but the basic essentials are shampoo, soap, toothpaste -”

“You do know that I’m not a complete moron, don’t you?” Crowley snapped as he walked past Dean, into the aisle. Dean crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Crowley look around at rows of different kinds of toothpaste. He lasted approximately thirty seconds before turning back to Dean. “How do I know what kind to get?”

Dean smirked as he walked up to him and grabbed his usual toothpaste off the shelf. “As long as it does what it needs to do and is on the cheaper side, it’ll do.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow at him. “You live a very sad life.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it.”

He picked out the rest of Crowley’s toiletries for him, aside from the body wash, for which Crowley selected a bottle that boasted of deep moisturization. Dean let him get it, fully intending to steal some one day to see if he liked it better than his.

“Okay, I think the last thing we need is food,” Dean proclaimed with relief as they turned out of the aisle.

“Don’t I get anything for my room?”

Dean sighed. “What the hell do you need for your room?” he demanded.

“I don’t know… I’d just like to have _something.”_

Dean closed his eyes, as though that would grant him patience. Was Crowley _trying_ to be difficult? He was already buying way more for the ex-demon than he had to, and he was asking for _more?_

Then again… Dean knew what it was like to not have a home, to cling to the few things he had just so that he had _something._ And Crowley literally had nothing. Nothing to hold on to to know that, wherever he may be staying for the night, he had at least one thing that was _his._

“Keep it less than thirty dollars,” Dean sighed resignedly as he opened his eyes and set off toward the home department.

After wandering through the aisles, Crowley eventually slowed around the pillows. Dean helped him pick out a good one that was certainly nicer than the pillows that had been in the bunker when Sam and Dean and moved in. And since that was less than $30, Dean let Crowley find his way over to the lawn & garden department, where he picked out a snake plant, much to Dean’s amusement.

“Of all things to get – a plant, really?”

Crowley shrugged. “It will give me something to take care of,” he muttered.

Dean gave a small nod and let it drop. Having taken care of Sam his whole life, he could understand that need. Maybe that was one of the reasons he was so willing to do this for Crowley. He needed to care for someone else because, if he didn’t, all he would have to focus on was himself, and he never liked to look at himself too closely.

So, Dean said nothing as Crowley carried his plant and followed him to the grocery department. He picked up the things he knew they needed, the last item of which was beer.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to get something of higher quality?” Crowley asked as Dean put the 24-pack into the cart.

“How much higher quality?” Dean asked cautiously.

Crowley looked over the shelves for a minute, then grabbed a bottle of Scotch that cost over $200. He held it out to Dean hopefully.

Dean groaned. “Dude, do you even _look_ at the price?”

Crowley glanced down at the bottle. “…No.”

He shook his head as he grabbed the bottle from him and put it back on the shelf. “Why do you have to have such expensive taste?”

“Because I was king,” Crowley muttered, looking at the bottle sadly.

Dean glanced at him briefly, then located the highest quality whiskey he could afford and put it in the cart. “This’ll have to do.”

Crowley seemed pleased enough, so they checked out and headed back to the car.

“Don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Dean said as they loaded the bags into the Impala. “What do you say we get something to eat before heading home?”

Crowley nodded. “Works for me.”

They went to a pretty good burger place just a couple blocks away. “Do me a favor and don’t order the most expensive thing on the menu, okay?” Dean asked desperately.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You want to just order for me, since you clearly can’t trust me to order something reasonable?”

“Actually, not a bad idea.” So, when the waitress came for their order, Dean ordered them both the same kind of burger with his most charming smile. He leaned his head around the side of the booth, watching her walk away.

“Really?” Crowley arched an eyebrow at him.

“What? She’s hot.”

“You’re worse than a hellhound in heat.”

“Well, I can honestly say I haven’t heard that one before.”

They fell into a silence that Dean had the feeling would have been comfortable, if it weren’t for the fact that he was currently having an internal struggle. There was something he felt he should probably ask Crowley, but… well, frankly, he didn’t want to care about him. And if he started asking these questions, it implied that he did care. But he was letting Crowley stay with him, he was taking him in, so wasn’t he obligated to ask these questions? No, he wasn’t – he could absolutely get by never asking him anything about him. But he couldn’t do that. It didn’t mean he cared, he just… something else. And he didn’t have to put a label on it, as long as it definitely _wasn’t_ caring about someone who used to make his life miserable.

“How are you doing?”

Surprise flickered over Crowley’s features. “You want the truth?”

Dean shrugged. “Why not?”

His gaze shifted to the table. “Honestly… I don’t know. I remember everything I did as a demon, and… it’s awful, but…” He took a deep breath. “I hate feeling weak, and there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to be human – that wishes I were still king.”

“You wish you were still a demon?”

“No… a little.” He shook his head as he looked back up at Dean. “I just wish I knew what I was.”

Dean frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Before I was a king, ruling over all demons, and now I’m back to being human. And the last time I was human, I was a pathetic drunk, and I don’t want to be that again.”

“You don’t have to be. Just because your life wasn’t great the last time you were human, it doesn’t mean it has to be that way now.”

“Nice thought, but I’m not exactly off to the greatest start. Sure, I’m bunking with you for now, but we both know that the second you get your brother back, I’m on the street, and I have nothing to get me on my feet.”

Dean sighed. “You help me, I help you, remember? I’ll help you get your life together.”

“Dean, I don’t even know what sort of life I’m supposed to be living. I don’t know who I am. I don’t even know if I can keep going by Crowley. I took on the name when I became a demon because I hated my human life so much, and I wanted it to be clear that I was a different person. But now I’m human again, and… I don’t want to go back to being Fergus, but I’m _technically_ no longer Crowley.”

“Yes, you are,” he argued immediately. “The name doesn’t have to be exclusive to you as a demon – it can symbolize the person you’ve become since the last time you were human. That doesn’t have to be evil. The parts of the new you that you like – the ambition, the cunning, the things that got you where you were – you don’t have to be a demon to have. It’s just who you are. Just because you’re human, doesn’t mean you have to be Fergus; you can still be Crowley, just without the demony stuff.”

Crowley’s expression was thoughtful with a hint of gratefulness before it turned to an amused smirk. “‘Demony stuff’? Really?” He started laughing, and Dean couldn’t help but join in.

Just then, the waitress arrived with their food. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh no, you’re perfectly fine,” Dean assured her with a flirtatious smile.

She returned his smile as she set his plate down in front of him. “Enjoy,” she said before walking off.

“I’ll have her number before we leave,” he said confidently as he turned back to Crowley.

“If I had money, I’d wager against that.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he took a large bite of his burger. “So, existential crisis averted?” he asked through his mouthful.

“A new kind of crisis is coming on if I have to watch you eat like that. But… it’s been deterred, at the very least. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He washed the food down with a drink of beer. “I understand it, in a way. I felt that to a lesser extent when I got back from Hell, then again after Purgatory. Both places changed me, and I didn’t know how to go back to my life.”

“The difference was, you wanted to go back. You had a good life to go back to.”

“I wouldn’t call it good.”

“Well, by definition, it’s not bad – you’re a hero.”

Dean scoffed. “No, I’m not. You got it right before. Saving people… it’s just how I’m able to justify my life.”

“Doesn’t change that you _do_ save people. When I said that… you know I was just trying to get to you. I was afraid.”

He shrugged as he took another bite. “Doesn’t make it less true.”

“Dean, you were the one threat that I, as the King of Hell, took seriously. You have quite the track record of screwing up the bad guys’ plans and saving the ones who need it. And I could never even hate you because… well, you were impressive. The point is, whatever it is you’re trying to justify, I think you more than make up for it.”

Crowley’s eyes were wide and undeniably honest, and his words hit Dean hard. He swallowed thickly as he found his voice. “Well, this is getting a bit too sappy, so just shut up and eat your burger, would you?”

Judging by Crowley’s answering smile, though, the gratitude Dean felt at his words showed on his face. They didn’t speak again until Dean’s plate was clear and Crowley’s was nearly there.

“So, what exactly _do_ humans do to have a good time in this century?” Crowley asked as he dipped his fry in what remained of Dean’s ketchup, since his own ketchup supply was depleted.

“Depends on the human, I guess,” Dean answered as he leaned back, finishing off his beer.

“Alright, then what about _you?”_ he pressed with a smile.

He shrugged. “I go to bars, strip clubs, movies, concerts… just depends on the day, really.” He swiped one of Crowley’s fries.

“So… what are you in the mood for tonight?”

“Crowley,” Dean sighed, “right now I just need to focus on getting Sam back.”

“And I promised I’d help, but you’re not going to be productive as tense as you are right now. You need to go out, have a good time, then return to work.”

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?”

“Exactly,” he agreed with satisfaction as he finished up his last fry. “So, what do you want to do?”

“Hold that thought.” Dean turned as their waitress emerged from the kitchen and moved in their direction.

“How was everything?” she asked as she came to a stop beside their table.

“Oh, it was great,” Dean said with a large grin. “Thanks for taking such good care of us.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure,” she said as she pulled the check out and set it on the table. “I have to say, you two make a really cute couple. Have a great day!”

“Well – wait, what?” Dean stumbled over his words and Crowley coughed into his drink, but the waitress was already walking away.

Dean stared after her, flabbergasted, while Crowley looked up with an amused smile. “Ready to go, honey?”

“Shut up.” He put the money down and got to his feet, ready to get out of there. Crowley was still chuckling as he followed him out to the car.

“So, where to?” Crowley finally stopped laughed as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“We need to take this stuff back to the bunker.”

“Dean-” he started to protest, but Dean continued.

 _“Then_ we can go to a bar.”

“Good.” Crowley settled back into his seat with a contented smile.

“Only because I have got to teach you to hustle pool, so that you can get some money of your own.”

“Works for me.”

“And we’re back to research first thing tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

Dean nodded to himself as he drove. It was just one night off, it wouldn’t hurt. Crowley was right, it’d probably be good for him. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like he was abandoning his brother in favor of going to a bar with the former King of Hell. It wasn’t like that, though, he told himself. This was just him keeping his end of the deal with Crowley – helping him to earn some money to survive on his own. If he happened to be enjoying himself while he was doing it, well… Sam would want him to have a good time.


	6. Help and Friendship

Dean was running down the dirt road as fast as he could, the sound of the wind rushing in his ears not loud enough to drown out Sam’s cries for help. He was almost there, though… almost…

There was a blinding flash of light and Dean sat bolt upright in bed. It took him a second to realize where he was, then he slumped back against the headboard. Just another nightmare.

He knew there was no point in trying to get more sleep – he’d just be inviting another nightmare to wake him up again in a matter of minutes. Besides, he was wide awake with his brother’s screams echoing in his head.

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand as he got to his feet, seeing that it was 6:42. Huh. That was certainly more sleep than he had been expecting to be able to get. He got dressed, then walked down the hall to Crowley’s room. All of Crowley’s clothes were already put away – the only sign that anyone was living there the leafy plant on the desk and the man still asleep in bed.

“Hey, Crowley.” Dean walked into the room, hitting Crowley’s foot. “Rise and shine.”

Crowley groaned as he opened his eyes. “What time is it?” he muttered.

“Almost seven.”

He sighed as he pushed himself up. “The need for sleep is irritating.”

“Tell me about it. How’d you sleep?”

“Not as bad as the night before. You?”

“Same. You wanna get dressed and I’ll start breakfast?”

“Sure,” he answered with a yawn.

Dean was almost done frying the bacon when Crowley walked into the kitchen, wearing dark jeans and a black button-up. “Smells good,” he commented as he poured his coffee.

“Duh. It’s bacon.”

Crowley laughed as he walked over to sit down at the table. “I had a good time last night,” he added after a couple seconds.

“Me too,” Dean admitted as he dished up their plates. When he turned around, Crowley had a peculiar look on his face that Dean couldn’t quite place. “What?”

“Just… thank you for everything.”

“’Course.” He carried their plates over to the table and sat down across from Crowley with a small smirk on his face. “Aside from you being a snob, it wasn’t so bad.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You only think I’m a snob because you’re cheap.”

“You only think I’m cheap because you’re a snob.”

He chuckled as he took a bite of his bacon. “So, how exactly do we go about bringing your brother back to life?” he asked once they were nearly finished eating.

“We search through every book in the library until we find a way.”

“Ah. And here I was worried you didn’t have a plan.”

“You have any better ideas?”

He didn’t. So, after they were finished eating, they moved to the library and set to work. Some part of him was screaming that he shouldn’t be letting Crowley, human or not, look through these books that the Men of Letters had so carefully collected and hidden away. But if there was even the slightest chance that Crowley’s assistance could help him save his brother, there was no way he wasn’t going to take it. Besides, research was a lot easier when he had someone at his side.

They had been at it for a couple of hours when Castiel showed up.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel’s eyes widened in mild alarm as they settled on Crowley. “What is Crowley still doing here?” His gaze snapped back to Dean. “Why is he being allowed to look at these books?”

Dean ground his teeth together in frustration, as Crowley glanced between the two of them. “He’s _helping,”_ he snapped. “You know, that thing you refuse to do. What the hell do you want, anyway?”

He hesitated for just a second. “To apologize. If... if searching for a way to save Sam is what you feel that you have to do, then it is not my place to stop you.”

“Big of you,” he muttered before finally looking up and meeting his gaze. “That mean you’re going to start helping, then?”

“I cannot do that when I do not feel that it is the right thing to do. I just meant that I am done trying to stop you.”

Dean sighed, looking back down at the book open in front of him. “Well, that’s something, at least…. How’s he doing?”

“He’s doing well. He asked me to tell you hi.”

A half-hysterical laugh bubbled from Dean’s lips. His dead brother was telling him ‘hi’ from Heaven. That was a bit much, even for him. He took a deep breath and slowly looked up, his gaze meeting Crowley’s for a half-second before the other man quickly looked away. Maybe he had been imagining it, but he could have sworn that in that second, Crowley had looked concerned.

“You going to pull up a chair and watch us work?” Crowley asked as he turned to Castiel. Dean was grateful for the change of subject and the extra seconds to collect himself. He wondered if it had been intentional on Crowley’s part.

“That might be inappropriate, since I am not helping.”

“Just a bit,” Dean muttered.

Castiel inclined his head. “I’ll leave then. Pray to me if you need anything.”

“As long as that anything isn’t my brother back, right?” Dean fixed him with a cool gaze.

“Dean-”

“Forget it,” Dean sighed. “It’s not like I need your help, anyway. I have Crowley.”

And that was what kept him going for the next three months. They still hadn’t found any inkling of a way to bring Sam back, but having someone by his side kept Dean from falling into an even darker abyss than he was already in. At some point, he even stopped adding the ‘even if that someone was Crowley’ caveat to the end of that sentence. Because somewhere along the line, he had actually begun to enjoy Crowley’s company.

Whenever Crowley thought the Dean was starting to slip too far, he would force him to take the night off, to go out and do something fun. As much as it pained Dean to tear himself away from finding a way to save his brother, he knew that it was good for him.

“Drinks are on me tonight,” Crowley said one night as he walked away from the pool table. Dean had just watched him hustle a guy and was feeling quite proud of his student.

“You don’t have to do that,” Dean argued, setting his beer down on the bar.

“It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

“No. You don’t owe me anything, Crowley.”

“But I-”

_“No.”_

Crowley stared him down for a few seconds before jerking his chin towards the foosball table. “Winner buys drinks, then?”

Dean smiled. “You’re on.”

This was Dean’s life, for the time being. His days were spent researching alongside Crowley, and every once in a while, they’d go out for the evening. He didn’t look for cases anymore, but if he got a call, he’d go. It was fun telling Jody that he was now friends with the demon who had nearly killed her, but as soon as he explained the situation, she understood. She was almost as glad that he had Crowley as he was.

Kevin was a little less understanding. He had found his mom and moved back with her, but Dean still called to check in on occasion. While he was grateful that Crowley had told him where to find his mom, he wasn’t ready to forgive him for everything he had done, just yet. Dean understood where he was coming from, and he understood where Dean was coming from, so whenever they talked, they merely avoided the subject of the ex-demon.

Castiel still stopped by some, but he was spending the majority of his time in Heaven these days. He was still refusing to help, and Dean had given up trying to get him to. He was just glad that Sam had somebody to keep him company until he could get him home.

Even as more time passed, Dean was still unrelenting in his conviction that he would find a way to bring his brother back. Just because they hadn’t found a way yet, it didn’t mean it wasn’t out there. And they had to be getting closer to it.

Dean looked up as Crowley yawned. He seemed to be struggling to keep his eyes open as he stared down at the book open in front of him. “You know you don’t have to stay up with me – go get some sleep.”

Crowley shook his head without looking up. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not, you’re exhausted. Seriously, go to bed.”

“I said I’m fine.” His voice was firm and convincing, aside from the face that he broke off with another yawn.

Dean rolled his eyes, starting to think that he had rubbed off on him a little too much. “Crowley, either you go willingly, or I will drag you to bed.”

He arched an eyebrow at him, the corner of his lips twitching up slightly. “That a promise?”

“Alright,” he sighed as he got to his feet. “Come on, let’s go.” He walked around the table to stand over Crowley until he finally sighed and stood up. True to his word, Dean grabbed him by the arm and led him down the hall to his room.

Crowley’s amused smile slowly faded as they walked into the room, and Dean released him as he came to stand in front of his bed, staring down at it.

“It’s the dreams, isn’t it?” Dean asked softly after a second.

He took a deep breath. “I keep hoping they’ll get better. I’m starting to think sleep deprivation might be the better option.”

“Trust me, it isn’t.” He knew that from personal experience. Not that he didn’t still resort to it.

Crowley was silent for several seconds, and Dean was starting to think that he might have to be the one to break the silence, when he finally spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s not just the dreams, though.”

Dean frowned. “What is it, then?”

“It’s…” He turned, looking up at him. “You know how lonely you feel in Hell?”

He breathed in deeply, using the breath to push down the memories the question brought up. “Yeah.”

“Well, when you become a demon, that doesn’t go away. But… it feels _right,_ comfortable. So now that I’m human…” He trailed off, looking down.

“You don’t know how to deal with being alone,” Dean filled in the rest.

He shook his head without saying anything.

“Why haven’t you said anything before now?”

“Because it’s stupid!” he snapped.

“No, it’s not. You don’t have to suffer through this on your own.” He thought for a moment before he walked over to take a seat on Crowley’s bed, leaning his back against the headboard and patting the space next to him. “Come on. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

Crowley looked at him with slightly wide eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You’re my friend, Crowley, I want to.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. Dean looked away as he stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt and then climbed under the covers beside him.

“Thank you, Dean,” he murmured after a second.

“Anytime.” He meant that, too. Crowley was one of the most important people in his life right now, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t there for him.


	7. Relaxing to Hurting

Dean didn’t want to open his eyes. He had actually gotten a half-decent night’s sleep and was tempted to see how long he could stretch it on for. He needed to get up, to get back to research, but when would be the next time he would be able to relax this thoroughly? His internal struggle was brought to an abrupt halt, though, when he felt movement on the bed beside him. _Oh._

He slowly pried his eyes open and looked over at Crowley, where he laid beside him.

“Morning, darling,” Crowley greeted him when he saw he was awake, the corner of his mouth curving up in an amused smile.

Dean sighed as he pushed himself up to sit, running a hand over his face. “Guess I was more tired than I realized. How’d you sleep?”

“Quite well, actually. You?”

“Same…. But how ‘bout we don’t mention that we just shared a bed – like, ever.”

“Fine,” Crowley agreed with a roll of his eyes as he pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “You snore, by the way.”

Dean glared at his back. “That’s mentioning it.”

“Not at all.” He threw him a smirk over his shoulder. “I could hear you through the walls.”

As much as Dean tried to suppress it, his laugh broke free. Oh, well. He could definitely afford to have more laughter in his life, even if it was at his expense.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” he muttered as he got out of bed, and then took off to his own room to get ready.

He couldn’t believe that he had fallen asleep with Crowley. Normally, he struggled to fall asleep in his own bed, when he was trying to do so. Relaxing just didn’t come easy to him these days – well, it hadn’t in a while, really – but these days especially. And yet, he had just drifted off while lying there with Crowley. It was kind of funny, really. Who would have ever thought that he would be comfortable sleeping beside the former King of Hell?

By the time he made it out to the kitchen, Crowley was already there waiting for him. “So, what’s for breakfast?” he asked as Dean entered the room.

“You tell me.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a small grin on his face as he came to a stop in from of him.

Crowley frowned slightly in confusion. “What?”

“I think it’s about time you step up and do some of the cooking. What do you say?”

“You’re sure?” he asked, his eyes widening slightly as though mildly alarmed at the very thought of cooking.

“There’s only so much you can learn by watching, Crowley. You have to give it a shot, eventually. Why not today?”

He was still slightly reluctantly, but nevertheless, he agreed. Dean watched him as he cooked, giving the occasional pointer, but he tried to let Crowley figure most of it out on his own. The product was something that mostly resembled pancakes and bacon that mostly resembled charcoal.

Crowley didn’t say anything as he dished up their plates, but looked sadly down at the food as they took their seats at the table. “This is a pathetic excuse for food,” he muttered.

“No, it’s – it’s good,” Dean attempted to reassure him.

Clearly, it didn’t work, as his expression was thoroughly unconvinced as he looked up at him. “You don’t have to spare my feelings, Dean.”

“Look, you’re not going to make anything perfectly on your first try. And it’s still… edible.” To demonstrate his point, he cut off a piece of pancake with his fork and took a bite. It was a little chewy, and the flavor was definitely off, but it wasn’t terrible. He could stomach eating the rest. “Not bad.”

Crowley appeared to be slightly cheered, at least until Castiel appeared. The angel frowned down at the plates, before looking to Dean. “Is that supposed to be food?”

Crowley’s head dropped into his hands, and Dean shot Castiel a glare. “Come on, man, it’s his first attempt at cooking. Be supportive.”

“Oh…” He turned to Crowley, who lowered his hands slightly to be able to look at him. “I don’t eat, so I don’t know what all food looks like,” he attempted to make up for his remark in a horribly unconvincing manner. “But now that I know that it is food, it does look quite good.”

“Gee, thanks,” Crowley muttered as he picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite that was immediately followed by a grimace. “No, you were right. That’s not food, that’s disgusting.”

“You just cooked it for a little too long,” Dean said comfortingly. “You’ll do better next time. And the pancakes really aren’t too bad.”

Crowley gave a doubtful ‘humph’ as he cut into one of his pancakes, while Dean turned back to Castiel. “How’s Sam doing?”

 “He’s doing very well,” he replied with a small smile.

“Not bored out of him mind yet?”

“No, that does not typically occur in Heaven, despite how you feel about it. I take it that you have not given up.”

“Nope. And I’m not gonna until he’s back here with me.”

Castiel looked away with his lips pressed tightly together. Dean knew that look – he wanted to argue, but he knew that the resulting fight wouldn’t be worth it.

“I talked to Kevin yesterday,” he decided it best to change the subject.

“How is he doing?” Castiel asked as he turned back to him, clearly grateful for the subject change.

“Pretty good. He’s got his life back – the kid deserves it, too. He did tell me to ask you if you’ve made a decision on closing up Heaven, though – said he’d be willing to come out of retirement for you.” Dean and Castiel had discussed the subject at length a couple weeks after Sam’s death, but he hadn’t been ready to make a decision. Given that three months had passed and the angel still seemed unwilling to seal up the pearly gates, though; Dean thought he had a pretty good idea of what his decision was.

“That is very kind of him, but you can tell him that it will not be necessary. I have made the decision not to seal up Heaven.”

Dean nodded, unsurprised. “Let me guess, if you seal up Heaven, that means all the individual Heavens are also locked off, right? Meaning you couldn’t visit Sam.”

Castiel inclined his head slightly. “That… is a contributing factor…. Though, I would also miss being able to see you.”

“Aw, shucks. You’re gonna make me blush, Cas.”

“Sam is expecting me, though. So, unless there is anything you need…?”

“Nah. Tell him I’m close to getting him home – I can feel it.”

He inclined his head in a not-quite-nod before disappearing from the room.

Dean turned his attention back to his plate, and deciding that it would be best to avoid the bacon, continued eating his pancakes. When he looked back up at Crowley, he was frowning at the spot Castiel had disappeared from.

“Something wrong?” he asked, kicking him lightly beneath the table.

Crowley blinked as he seemed to come back to reality and focused on Dean. “Sorry, just thinking…. Am I the only one here getting the impression that there’s something going on between Castiel and your brother?”

Dean had a strong feeling that that wasn’t what Crowley had actually been thinking about, but he decided to roll with it. “Yeah, Cas doesn’t even answer my prayers half the time, he’s spending so much time with Sam…” He shook his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Can angels even fall in love?”

“I can’t imagine it’d be a very common occurrence, but… I doubt Nephilim come about through their college experimentation days.” He arched an eyebrow at him. “Do you approve?”

Dean shrugged. He’d had the suspicion for some time now, but given that he didn’t know for sure that anything was going on, he’d mostly been avoiding thinking about it. Not because he necessarily had a problem with it, but because it was a little weird to think of one of his best friends actively dating his dead brother. “They could both do worse.” He knew that much to be true, at least.

“But…?”

“But I’ll give it more thought once Sam’s breathing again.” He finished his last bite of pancake and got to his feet, reaching out for Crowley’s plate. “You done?”

“Yeah.”

He grabbed both their plates and headed over to the sink, Crowley trailing a little bit behind him.

“Dean,” Crowley began hesitantly as Dean dumped the bacon in the trash and put the plates in the sink. “Speaking of relationships… there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Dean turned to face him with a slight frown. “What? You’re wanting to start dating?” He didn’t know why that thought caused his stomach to clench uncomfortably, but it did.

Crowley looked faintly surprised that he had caught on so fast. “… Yes.”

He swallowed down the slightly sick sensation he was feeling. There was no need for that. Crowley deserved to live a good life and date whoever he pleased. He should have that, no matter how it might change the way things currently were. Because that was surely why the idea was bothering Dean so much; he couldn’t think of what else it could possibly be. He’d have to share the one person who had been always been there for him these past months with whoever he ended up dating. But he couldn’t be selfish – Crowley needed to have a life outside of him. “Right, well… bars are generally where I go to pick up chicks, but that’s generally for one-night stands. You said relationships, so I’m guessing you’re looking for more than that?”

“No, well yes, but that’s not what I was meaning….” He looked away sheepishly.

Dean felt himself relax slightly, though he couldn’t imagine what else Crowley could be meaning. “Oh… you trying to build up the suspense?”

Crowley sighed as he looked back to him. “Dean, would you like to go out for dinner with me?”

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “We go out for dinner all the… oh.” His eyes widened as he finally realized what Crowley was saying. “You… oh.” He opened his mouth in another attempt to form a complete sentence, but he couldn’t even figure out where to start. What was he supposed to say? It was _Crowley,_ his best friend. He didn’t want to hurt him, but he couldn’t date him.

Crowley seemed to get the message, though, and his nervously hopeful expression fell. “Never mind,” he said quickly, staring intently at far wall. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Sorry, it’s just… you’re my friend, not… ya know…”

“Of course. It was more of a random thought, anyway. Not anything I was seriously considering.” One look at Crowley’s face clearly communicated just how blatant of a lie that was, though.

“Right…” Dean muttered, glancing around uncomfortably. “Um, so… we should probably get to research.”

“Right.” He immediately spun around and walked out the door.

Dean sighed and followed after him. Things were awkward that day, to say the least. Dean found it difficult to focus on what he was reading, instead glancing up at Crowley every few seconds, generally to see that his eyes were fixed, unmoving on the page in front of him. Dean wondered just how long Crowley had been harboring these feelings for him, how long he had been building up the courage to ask him out, only to be shot down. How were things ever going to be the same between them? Crowley was living with someone he had unrequited feelings for. How was that fair to him? And every time Dean looked at him, all he could think was how much he was hurting him. They couldn’t live like this.

A little over an hour into research, Dean couldn’t take it anymore. “Crowley, I…” He took a deep breath. “Maybe we shouldn’t be living together… given everything.”

Crowley didn’t shift from staring down at his book, other than to close his eyes. “’Course,” he muttered. “I’ll gather my things, then.” He got to his feet without looking at Dean.

“I can give you a hand… get you situated somewhere.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine on my own.” Before Dean could say anything else, he took off down the hall.

Dean sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He ran his hands over his face and was only mildly surprised when they came back wet. He didn’t know how he was going to carry on without Crowley, but he didn’t see that he had any other choice. It would be selfish for him to continue on with Crowley as though nothing had changed, just because it made life easier for him. Crowley deserved happiness, and he wouldn’t be finding it with him.


	8. Alone and Hunting

Dean’s nightmares were different that night. There was still the usual – Sam dying, blaming him – but Crowley also made an appearance. He joined Sam in telling Dean that he deserved to suffer because all he did was hurt others.

“You’re worse than I ever was, even as a demon,” he said coldly.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Dean muttered, unable to look directly at him.

Crowley scoffed. “Suppose I should be grateful, really. I’m better off without you in my life. Everyone close to you ends up just like your brother, here.”

“He’s right,” Sam agreed. “I wish you’d never come back from Purgatory. Without you in my life, I'd still be alive right now.”

“I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat,” Dean said fervently.

“Sounds good to me.” He glanced at Crowley.

“Me too,” Crowley agreed.

They both pulled out knifes and approached Dean, who didn’t even have it in him to back away. He deserved this, so he stood his ground as they plunged their knifes into him.

Dean's eyes snapped open. It took him a second to orient himself to his surroundings, then another to realize he was crying. He breathed in deeply as he wiped his tears from his eyes and sat up. Checking his phone revealed that he had only gotten a couple hours of sleep, and he was surprised that so much pain could be squeezed into such a short amount of time.

He tried not to think as he got up and made himself a pot of coffee, and then got back to research. He was finding it hard to focus between his exhaustion and the fact that his eyes kept drifting to the chair that had always been occupied by Crowley. The utter emptiness of the room was pressing in on him, and he felt as though the weight of it might crush him.

“Dean.”

His gaze snapped up to fix on Castiel. He had no idea how long he had been standing there, but judging from the look on the angel’s face, it’d been more than a few seconds. “Oh… hey, Cas.” He tried to inject some energy into his voice, but it still sounded dead, even to his own ears.

Castiel frowned. “You don’t look well.”

“Yeah, didn’t sleep to well last night,” he muttered.

His frown only deepened as he glanced around the room. “Where’s Crowley?”

Dean took a deep breath, finding it oddly difficult to say the words aloud. “… He moved out.”

Castiel blinked, his gaze returning to Dean. “Why?”

“He just… it was time.”

Dean felt like he was being examined, and he hated it, so he focused his attention back on his book, trying to ignore the angel. “Are you okay?” Castiel finally asked.

Dean didn’t answer. His brother was dead, and he had just pushed away one of his best friends, while his relationship with the other had been frayed for a while now. And it wasn’t as though he had been in the greatest shape to begin with. How was he ever supposed to be okay again? “Would you mind staying with me for a bit?” he asked quietly, after several seconds. “I know you don’t agree with saving Sam, but-”

“Of course I’ll stay,” he answered immediately.

Dean breathed in a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Castiel sat down in the chair that was no longer Crowley’s and Dean felt the atmosphere lighten just slightly. He may not be okay, but at least he was no longer alone.

It wasn’t the same as having Crowley with him – he couldn’t talk to Castiel about what he was doing, since he knew it would start an argument, and so they didn’t speak much – but it was good to have the company. When Dean had completely forgotten about food, Castiel insisted that he eat something, and he even brought him pie in an attempt to make him feel better. He actually managed a small smile at that. It wasn’t a good day by any means, but it could have been worse.

Castiel came by more often that month, always checking in to make sure that Dean was doing alright, that he was eating and sleeping, and keeping him company when he needed it.

“Dean, this is not healthy,” he finally said one day as he watched Dean research.

Dean glanced at the half-eaten burger on his plate. “Yeah, but it tastes good.”

He sighed. “That is not what I mean, and you know it. How many hours of sleep did you get last night?”

“Don’t know,” he muttered.

“Three hours and eight minutes.”

“That’s creepy, Cas.”

“And even in that time, the sleep you got wasn’t restful,” he continued as though Dean hadn’t spoken. “You have not left the bunker in a month – you would not even be eating if I didn’t bring you food.”

“Well, what would you have me do?” Dean demanded, looking up at him. “And don’t you dare say give up.”

“If you refuse to give up, then at least find moderation. You need to have more in your life than this.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Castiel hesitated. “Maybe you could try to get in contact with Crowley?” he suggested tentatively.

“No,” Dean answered almost before he had finished the question. He had already screwed things up, he didn’t even know what he could possibly say to Crowley, even if he did manage to get in touch with him. “Not an option.”

“Then find something else, because this is not good for you.”

He sighed. He knew that Castiel had a point, and so he did what he always did – he turned back to hunting. It wasn’t the same without Sam, though. He had found himself hunting on his own many times throughout his life, and he always hated it, always wished that he had his brother by his side. It wasn’t just knowing that there was someone out there that had his back, it was the way that they had always been able to banter and joke around to make the heaviness of what they did a little lighter. But he’d get that back eventually (he refused to admit that even he was beginning to lose hope), and until then, he could manage on his own.

He approached the cop at the crime scene of the most recent of the string of murders in the town, pulling out his fake FBI badge. “I’m Agent-”

“Yeah, yeah, your partner’s over there,” the cop muttered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder without looking up from the evidence he was collecting.

Dean frowned as he followed the path of the cop’s thumb until his gaze landed on the FBI agent interviewing the witness. His stomach clenched. It was Crowley.

What the hell was he doing here? There was no way he was an actual FBI agent, so that could only mean he was… hunting. But why would _Crowley_ be hunting? And now what was Dean supposed to do? Leave? But he couldn’t just leave Crowley to work the case on his own, he could get hurt. But could they work together after what had happened between them?

He stared at him for a few more seconds before he realized that he just couldn’t walk away. It felt good to see Crowley again, and he couldn’t let that go just yet. Besides, he had a job to do.

“Are you _sure_ you didn’t see the killer’s face?” Crowley was asking the witness as Dean approached.

“I-I didn’t have a good angle,” the college-aged girl muttered, picking at her sleeve as she avoided looking at him. “What I saw… it can’t have been right.”

“What do you think you saw?” Dean asked gently as he stepped up beside Crowley.

Her gaze snapped up to him, eyes narrowed and cautious, while Crowley stiffened and slowly turned to face him. Dean offered him a tentative smile and he cleared his throat. “Uh, this is my partner…”

“Agent Bonham,” Dean supplied. “Look, whatever you think you saw – anything you can tell us could really help our investigation.”

She nodded, looking down at her arm. “It… it kind of looked like a guy we used to go to school with – Randy something. But… I think I was seeing things because I could have sworn that he had… fangs.”

“Fangs?”

“Yeah, and claws. Like… some kind of animal.”

Dean nodded. “And this Randy… you know where he is now?”

“No. We never really talked in school… he was kinda weird, ya know. Not many people hung around with him. You hear stories of people like that who snap, but… why go after Tessa?”

“You tell me. They ever interact at all?”

“I think he might have asked her out once, but lots of guys did, so I’m not sure.”

“Well, thank you for your time. If you think of anything, give us a call.” He handed her his card, and she nodded before walking away.

Dean waited until she was out of earshot before he turned to Crowley, putting on a wry grin to cover up the awkwardness that he felt. “So, hunting? Really?”

Crowley shrugged, not quite looking at him. “I saw the news report and it sounded like a werewolf. You’re the one who told me to use what I had learned as a demon.”

“Yeah, not _exactly_ what I had in mind, but if it’s what you want to do…”

“I knew I could help,” he muttered.

Dean nodded understandingly. “So, you’re still trying to make up for your past.”

“Yes.”

“Alright…” He glanced around the street, trying to come up with something to say. “Well, I’m starving. Want to go get a bite to eat and discuss the case?” he asked hopefully.

Crowley finally looked at him, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “Are you sure about that?” But there was a trace of hopefulness in his gaze too, so instead of his words causing Dean to back off, he found himself grinning one of the most natural grins that he had managed in a while.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Let’s go.”


	9. Partners and Apologies

“And here’s your bacon burger – all the fixings.” The waitress leaned in a little closer than was necessary as she placed the plate down in front of Dean, giving him a large smile.

“Thanks,” he nodded, pulling his attention away from the news report that he was reading on his phone to focus on his food, paying hardly any mind to the waitress.

Her smile slipped slightly as she turned and walked away. Crowley glanced between her retreating form and Dean, his eyebrows raised slightly. “What’s the problem?”

“What?” Dean stopped with his burger halfway to his mouth.

“She was flirting with you. Never known you to ignore a pretty face, interested or not. I won’t take offense, really.”

He glanced briefly back in the direction of the waitress and gave a shrug. “Huh. Wasn’t really paying attention, honestly.” Maybe he was out of practice – he hadn’t been out of the bunker since Crowley had left, aside from his few recent hunting trips, and even then he hadn’t found opportunity to flirt with anyone – or more accurately, hadn’t been in the mood. He took a large bite of his burger as he turned back to Crowley. “So, how you been?”

He gave a small shrug. “Alright. I’ve been surviving, at least. What about you? Still no luck, I take it?”

“No,” he sighed. “I… I’ve gone through pretty much all of the books in the bunker, but… Cas thought I was getting too self-destructive, so he convinced me go out on some cases to clear my head.”

“Good. I’m sure you could use it.”

He shrugged. “So, what’s your story? You even try to get a real job?”

“Yes, but my background check didn’t exactly work out,” he said bitterly before popping a fry into his mouth.

Dean snorted. “Maybe if you aimed a little lower on the totem pole.”

“I am _not_ going to be stuck working at a gas station for the rest of my life.”

“Alright, fair enough. But it does still pay more than hunting.”

“I’m not saying I want to be a hunter for the rest of my life, either, I just… don’t see any other options right now. And… I’m hoping that it will go at least a little ways in making up for my past.”

“Crowley, you were a demon. You were gonna do bad stuff. That doesn’t mean you have to live your entire human life trying to make amends.”

“Oh, well in that case, I’ll just carry on until I can actually sleep at night,” he snarked. “How about that, then?”

Dean sighed, looking down at his plate. “Still not sleeping well, huh?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Sorry, man.”

He shrugged. “I can’t imagine you have it much better.”

“Yeah, probably not,” he muttered. “So, how long’ve you been on the case?”

“I got into town last night. I was about to go to the morgue this morning when I heard about the latest death.”

“Well, don’t see much of a need for that now. What do you say we go check out this Randy when we’re done here?”

Crowley nodded. “He sounds like the werewolf to me. How do we find him?”

“We need to look up all the Randys around here and check them all out.”

“Sounds like fun.” He raised his glass to him before taking a drink.

As luck would have it, there was a grand total of 12 Randals in the town, and the sun had already set by their eighth stop.

“If this guy is a werewolf, we’re cutting it close,” Crowley muttered, glancing up at the sky.

“Well, at least if he turns, we’ve got our answer.” Dean pulled back his suit jacket to show the gun loaded with silver bullets. “And we’ll be ready.” He knocked on the door of the apartment, hoping that this would be their last stop. But at the same time, it had been nice spending the day with Crowley, and he wasn’t quite ready for it to be over.

“Hello?” A young man with a slender build and a mess of dark hair opened the door.

“Are you Randy?” Dean asked.

“Uh… yes.” He looked between them nervously.

“We’re agents Bonham and Zappa – FBI.” He showed him a picture of the girl that had been killed. “Do you know this girl?”

His eyes grew wide. “That-that’s Tessa. We went to high school together. Oh my god, did something happen to her?”

Dean exchanged a look with Crowley before turning back to Randy. “She’s dead. And we have a witness that says you’re who killed her.”

“What?” he gasped, taking a step back. “No. No! I could never do something like that.”

“Maybe not originally,” Dean allowed with a nod. “But you aren’t quite you anymore, are you, Randy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Crowley sighed. “Where were you last night?”

“Working! I work the night shift at Walmart. You-you can call my boss – I was there until eight this morning!”

“Well, shit,” Dean sighed. He grabbed Crowley by the sleeve and pulled him down the hall, calling back to Randy, “Don’t go anywhere.”

“There’s no way a werewolf can work the night shift,” he said in an undertone as soon as they were far enough away.

“Definitely not,” Crowley agreed. “Maybe it was just someone who looks like him – it could be hard to correctly identify someone with all the wolfy features. Or maybe Kelly lied.”

“Why would she lie, though?”

He didn’t answer, instead turning and walking back over to Randy, with Dean following behind him. “Does the name Kelly ring a bell? Friend of Tessa’s?”

He blinked in surprise. “Yeah, they were always inseparable.”

“And did you get along?”

“Not really. I got the impression she didn’t like anyone Tessa dated, though.”

“Wait… you dated?” Dean demanded. His gaze snapped to Crowley, but he didn’t look surprised.

“Not for very long, but yeah – beginning of senior year.”

“Funny – Kelly told us that nothing ever happened between you two.”

He shrugged. “Not surprising, really. She’s the reason we broke up – she was just so clingy and kept treating me like I wasn’t good enough for Tessa. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“What more can you tell us about her?” Crowley asked.

“Um…” He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t really want to speculate.”

“This is a federal investigation. Do tell.”

He sighed. “Most people thought she was in love with Tessa, and that’s why she kept getting between her and every guy she dated.”

“Kelly did sound slightly bitter when she said Tessa was asked out a lot,” Dean muttered. “Crowley, who were the other victims?”

“Lucas Praxon, Connor Morton, and Ryan Sewman,” he recited from memory, his gaze locked on Randy’s face. “Any of those names sound familiar?”

“Uh… y-yeah,” Randy stammered, his eyes wide. “I went to school with all of them. I know Lucas dated Tessa, but I suppose she might have dated the others, too…. I mean, she was kind of a flirt.”

Dean nodded. “Get in your apartment and lock the door,” he said firmly.

“You… uh… okay.” He quickly stumbled backwards into the apartment and Dean heard the click of the lock.

“It’s Kelly,” Crowley commented as he turned away from the door, pulling a silver knife out of his suit jacket.

“Yep,” Dean agreed, drawing his gun as they walked down to the parking lot. “Guess she got tired of watching Tessa flirt around with everyone but her, so when she became a werewolf, she started killing the exes. Then last night, she and Tessa had some kind of falling out, so she killed her too.”

“She knew we were hunters,” Crowley observed. “So, she told us what we wanted to hear, and then sent us after her next target. Either we’d kill him for her, or she’d be able to take us all out at once.”

Dean looked up at where the moon had risen in the sky. “Any time now.”

They both tensed, their weapons at the ready, listening carefully for any sound of the approaching werewolf. But damn, Dean had forgotten how quiet werewolves could be, and how fast, too. One second, he was scanning the parking lot, and the next, his gun was flying out of his hand, and he was on his back, barely holding the snarling Kelly off of him.

“Kelly – I _think_ you may be overreacting a bit,” he gasped as he moved his head to the side to avoid her teeth.

“Do you know what it’s like to _always_ be there for someone, and for them to _never_ see it?” she growled. “I stood by her through _everything,_ and when I told her I wanted more, she wouldn’t even give me a _chance._ _Do you know what that feels like?”_

“I do,” Crowley’s voice spoke from above them. Her head snapped up just in time for him to fire Dean’s gun. The bullet hit her right between the eyes and she collapsed on top of Dean.

“Uff,” Dean huffed as he pushed her body off of him. Crowley walked over, extending a hand to help him up. “Thanks,” he muttered as he got to his feet, not quite looking him in the eyes. He took his gun back silently, and then they both stood there, refusing to look at each other. “Well, I’m sure glad you’re not crazy as she was,” Dean finally broke the silence.

Crowley gave a small laugh as he rolled his eyes, but he still didn’t say anything.

“Look, Crowley, I’m sorry-”

“Dean, you have nothing to apologize for,” he said, finally looking him in the eyes. “You’re not obligated to return my feelings. Do I wish you did? Of course. But I don’t blame you for it. I’d rather we still be friends than nothing.”

Dean managed a small smile. “So, you’re not going to go off killing everyone I flirt with, then?”

He smirked. “You don’t have a shot with a quarter of the women you flirt with, so why bother?”

He laughed, shaking his head as his gaze landed on Kelly’s body. If Crowley hadn’t been there, that would have been his dead body on the ground. He wasn’t even sure if he would have been able to piece together the case as quickly without him – probably not. “Damn, it’s good to have backup. You know… if you’re serious about hunting, and you want a partner…”

Crowley blinked at him in surprise. “Wouldn’t that involve us being in rather close proximity to each other? And I thought you didn’t want that.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you to move out,” he sighed. “I just thought it would be weird. But I miss you. So, if it won’t be awkward for you…”

“As long as you promise not to look at me like you feel sorry for me all the time.”

“I don’t do that.”

He arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re doing it right now.”

Dean looked down. “… Sorry.”

He sighed. “Can we just go back to the way things were before I said anything?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” A smile began working its way onto his face as he looked up at Crowley again. “Say, I don’t feel like driving back to the bunker tonight. Where are you staying?”

Dean followed Crowley to the motel he was staying at. He really was taking a page out of Dean’s book – the former king had to be miserable staying in a place like this.

“Surprised you can stomach staying here,” Dean commented as the climbed into his bed.

“It’s not pleasant, but someone told me that I had to start thinking about what I could afford.”

“Sounds like someone who gives good advice.”

“Eh. Not really.”

Dean glared at the head poking out from the covers of the other bed, receiving a smile in return. “It’s… really good to have you back, Crowley,” he admitted softly, after several seconds of silence.

“You too, Dean.”


	10. Peace and Happiness

Dean was standing in an open field. He thought that he might have been there before, but he wasn’t certain. There was just something about the place… a surreal feeling that made it hard for him to really get a feel for it. He got a pretty good idea of why when he turned around and saw who was standing behind him.

His heart seemed to stop in his chest before it picked back up again, twice as fast. He swallowed thickly as he met his brother’s eyes. The normal cold rage that Dean had come to expect wasn’t there; instead, he seemed almost happy. That was no comfort to Dean, though; his dreams were constantly changing, so maybe this time Sam was just happy to rub it in his face how colossally he had screwed up.

“Another nightmare, then,” he sighed resignedly. He waved his hand at his brother. “Have at it, then.”

Sam frowned. “You have nightmares about me?”

He nearly laughed. “You know I do. So, go on. Blame me. Or, are you playing a different angle tonight?”

He took a deep breath. “Dean… I don’t blame you.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “What?”

“My death wasn’t your fault. _I chose_ to take on the trials, and neither of us knew what would come of it. But the way I died… I was doing the right thing, I was making the world better. I’m not upset about it, and I certainly don’t blame you. I think the only one you does is you.”

“Of course I blame myself!” he huffed, tears forming in his eyes. _“I_ should’ve been the one doing the trials, Sammy! I should’ve protected you!”

“That wasn’t your job. You always acted like I was your responsibility, but I can make my own decisions.”

“And look where that got you!”

He shrugged. “I did the right thing, Dean. The gates of Hell are closed – demons can’t hurt anyone anymore. My death is worth that.”

“Not to me,” the words came out as a sob as the tears began to run down Dean’s face.

Sam didn’t say anything as he stepped forward, pulling him into a hug. Dean let him, waiting for the inevitable – for Sam to drop dead, or to kill him, or for something else to happen that would make him even more miserable. But nothing happened.

“What kind of weird dream is this, anyway?” Dean muttered after a minute.

Sam chuckled slightly as he pulled back. “It’s… well it’s not entirely a dream. I mean, it _is,_ but… Cas has been trying to do this for a while now, but you’ve been sleeping so restlessly that he hasn’t been able.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed as he let go of his brother, eyeing him suspiciously. “Trying to do what?” he asked slowly.

He offered him a small smile. “Well, you know angels can visit you in your dreams… apparently, they can bring along someone from Heaven.”

It took a few seconds for that to fully process. “…Sam?” Dean finally choked out.

“Hey, Dean.”

He reached out, pulling Sam back into an even tighter hug than before. This was really Sam. Really his brother. He was there. He buried his face in his shoulder as the tears continued to flow. They stayed like that for several minutes, until Dean regained composure and pulled away, dropping his arms to his sides as Sam followed his lead.

“It’s really good to see you,” Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder before he let his arms drop.

“Yeah… you, too.” He glanced around. “So, you said Cas brought you here… where is he?”

“Giving us some privacy. He figured we could use it.”

He nodded. “Good of him.” He wandered over to a bench that he wasn’t entirely sure had been there initially, and took a seat. Sam took a seat beside him, and they just sat there in silence for several minutes. Nothing needed to be said; they had been apart for so long that they just needed to take the time to enjoy being in each other’s presence, and they knew the other needed the same.

It was Sam who broke the silence first. “Dean, I need to ask a favor of you.”

Dean looked over at him to see that he was still staring out over the field. “Anything.”

He took a deep breath as he turned to face him. “Stop trying to save me.”

“What? No! You can’t ask me to do that, Sammy!”

“Dean, I’m happy! Honestly. I’m happy with how I died; I’m happy in Heaven. My sacrifice was _for_ something. I know that I did the right thing – I’m at peace.”

“But I can get you back-”

“How long have you been looking now? Maybe Cas is right. Maybe there isn’t a way to bring me back. But even if there is, it’s not worth what you’re doing to yourself. The way we lived our lives… there was only ever one way we’d get peace. And I have that now. And it’s not like I’m alone. Cas visits me, and as long as you stop beating yourself up and can get some sleep, he can bring me to visit you.”

Dean didn’t want to admit that he was making good points. He didn’t want to know that there was no way he’d ever get his brother back. He didn’t want that to come to terms with his new life without him. “Sam…” He started to argue, but at this point he wasn’t sure what argument he could make.

“Come on, Dean, this is better than most people get.”

He looked at his brother, really looked at him, and all the fight he had been holding onto left him. He had noticed from the beginning that there was something different about Sam – at first he had thought it was because this was a dream, and then he had figured it was because Sam was dead. But now that he was paying attention, he could see what it really was. The Sam that Dean had known on Earth had been weighed down by so much baggage – his guilt for his mistakes, his fear that he was evil, his sadness at the loss of so many people that he loved, and everything else that came with the life they lived. The Sam that he was looking at right now had none of that. He seemed to sit up a little straighter without the weight of the world weighing down on his houlders; his eyes seemed brighter without the sadness darkening his gaze; his smile seemed more genuine without the guilt making him question if he should even be allowed to smile; he seemed to be more sure of himself without the fear making him question who he was. He really was happy, happier than he had ever had a chance of being on Earth.

Dean sighed. “Alright.”

Sam gave him a small smile. “Thank you. And this isn’t it, you know. We’ll still get to see each other, as-”

“As long as I get some sleep. Yeah, got it.”

They were quiet for a few seconds. “You know, you could have some peace, too,” Sam said hesitantly. “You don’t have to keep hunting.”

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do,” Dean admitted.

“You could find something.”

“Maybe… but not right now. I can only handle so much change at once. I need something familiar – a pattern I can fall back on.”

Sam nodded. “I get it. Just… I’d like for you to find peace differently than I did.”

“I’ll do my best.” He meant it, too. He’d think about retiring from the life eventually, but for now, he needed to hunt.

“So, what’s going on in your life? Cas has told me some, but I’m sure he doesn’t know everything.”

“He probably knows most of it. Mostly, I’ve just been looking for a way to save you. But I’ve started going on a few hunts again. Just finished up taking down a werewolf with Crowley.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Crowley?”

“Yeah. He is human now,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I know. But he’s hunting?”

He shrugged. “He wants to make up for his past.”

“Well, I suppose hunting is as good of a way as any to run from guilt. We certainly don’t have any room to talk.”

“That’s for sure.”

“So, is he any good?”

“He saved my life,” Dean said with a grin.

“Huh. Well, I’m glad you have him.”

“Yeah, me too…” His grin faded slightly as he thought about that. He was damn lucky to have Crowley, and he had nearly gone and thrown it all away all because Crowley liked him. He was an idiot. What would he have done if he had never run into him again? He could have lost him forever, and the mere idea of that left him feeling ice cold.

“Dean, you okay?” Sam asked with a small frown.

“Uh, yeah…” He shook his head slightly, looking for a change in subject that wouldn’t leave him feeling so… lost. “So, what’s going on with you and Cas?”

Sam blushed slightly. “Is it that obvious?”

He smirked. So, he had been right. “Nearly every time I try to talk to him, he’s with you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he laughed. “Tell me what’s going on between you two.”

“It’s… well, it’s kinda… I mean, I’m dead, so I shouldn’t be able to say that I’m seeing someone, but…” He sighed, a rather sappy smile forming on his face that Dean would have made fun of if he wasn’t so happy to see the absolute bliss radiating off his brother. “It was an adjustment period when I got to Heaven, but Cas was there for me. And then he kept being there for me. I… I liked him when I was alive, so I figured I’m dead, what have I got to lose? I didn’t know what would be possible with me dead and him an angel, but he said we could make it work.”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Dean said with a grin, clapping his brother on the back.

“Thanks. So… what about you and Crowley?” he asked casually.

Dean blinked in surprise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said immediately.

Sam arched an eyebrow at him. “I know you better than that, Dean. Something’s going on between you two.”

“Yeah, he asked me out and I turned him down,” he explained simply.

He frowned slightly. “Why?”

“I… I don’t… Come on, Sam, you know why you turn someone down.”

“Yeah, either you don’t like them, or you’re scared of what’ll happen if you say yes.” He looked at him pointedly.

“And you think it’s option two?” Dean guessed.

“Yeah.”

He shook his head. “The guy’s my best friend. That’s all.”

“Dean, the look you get on your face whenever you talk about him – you don’t look like that talking about someone you just think of as a friend.”

“You’re delusional, Sammy,” he muttered, looking at the ground.

“I get it. Too many changes, right? I’m dead, we were a huge part of each other’s lives, and now everything is different. You don’t want to give up hunting because it’s familiar, and you don’t want to enter into a relationship because that’s a whole new dynamic to add to your life that has already been thrown off course. But, Dean, if Crowley makes you happy, then you owe it to yourself to try.”

Once again, Dean tried to ignore the truth of Sam’s words as he looked up at him. “Just because he makes me happy, it doesn’t mean what I feel for him is romantic. My feelings for him are…” He thought about what he did feel for Crowley – the way his mere presence made him feel lighter, the way he could make him smile at his absolute lowest, the way he seemed to understand him in a way that Dean had thought no one would ever be able to.... He sighed. Dammit.

Sam grinned knowingly. “Your feelings for him are…?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make a difference. I’d just end up screwing things up and losing him all over again.”

“Cas told me he left over a month ago. Isn’t that right?”

Dean nodded.

“And he still has feelings for you?”

“Seems like it.”

“Then it doesn’t sound like you’ll be able to chase him away so easily. There’s always a chance it won’t work out, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t at least try.”

He sighed. “You really think I should ask him out?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then, if this blows up in my face, I’m blaming you.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

Dean smiled. Well, this had certainly been one hell of a day – what, between his reunion with Crowley, and now Sam as well – and it had left him feeling happier than he had in a very long time. Would it be hard giving up trying to bring Sam back? Of course. Was he terrified about talking to Crowley in the morning? Most definitely. But right now he was talking to his brother, and he might actually have a shot at a happy relationship; and for the moment, that was all that mattered.


	11. Change and Nerves

When Dean woke up the next morning, he laid in silence for several minutes, letting everything sink in. He had spoken to his brother. That had been real, hadn’t it? Or had it all just been some bizarre dream? But Dean knew his mind better than that – for one, he would never have that good of a dream, and two, it had felt so _real._ A small laugh escaped him at the realization. Sam was _happy._

 _‘Thanks, Cas,’_ he prayed, smiling up at the ceiling.

The smile was still on his face as he looked over at Crowley, his heart clenching like he now realized it did whenever he looked at him. How had he not noticed before? The other man was still asleep, grunting as he rolled onto his side. Dean’s smile slipped. It looked as though he was the only one who had managed to escape the nightmares.

He rolled out of bed, taking the half-step necessary to reach down and shake Crowley’s shoulder. “Crowley. Wake up.”

Crowley’s reflexes had changed; rather than recoiling from the touch, his hand slapped down on Dean’s wrist defensively, wrapping around it as he sprang up. He blinked as he realized what was going on. “Sorry,” he muttered, releasing Dean and dropping his hand.

“Don’t be,” Dean said sincerely, giving him a small, encouraging smile. “You have good reflexes.”

Crowley scoffed as he pushed himself into a more comfortable sitting position. “Yeah, my first instinct when someone wakes me up is that I’m being attacked.”

“Hey, that’s not always a bad thing.” He hesitated. “You want to talk about it?”

He sighed, looking down. “It’s not like it’s anything new.” He climbed out of bed and shut himself in the bathroom without another word.

Dean looked at the closed door for a few seconds, before sinking down onto the bed with a sigh. How was he supposed to do this? He had broken Crowley’s heart, and now he was supposed to – what? Say, ‘never mind, let’s do this,’ and expect him to forget all the pain he had caused him? Whether or not Crowley still had feelings for him, it didn’t guarantee that he still wanted to date him. Had Dean lost his chance? Was the same scene from last month about to play out in reverse? Would their friendship be able to survive it happening again?

He buried his face in his hands, not looking up until he heard the bathroom door open. Crowley immediately set to packing up his things, while Dean watched him nervously. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Crowley, I’ve changed my mind.”

Crowley’s eyebrows were drawn together as he turned to face him. “About?”

He took a deep breath. “About going back to the way things were before.”

His face fell. “Oh… I see…” he muttered, his eyes falling to the ground.

“Yeah,” Dean swallowed thickly as he got to his feet, taking a step closer to him. “So, um, how does dinner tonight sound?”

Crowley’s head snapped up, eyes searching his face. “…What?”

“Dinner. With me. Tonight.” He bit his lip nervously. Damn, he hadn’t felt like this since asking Lisa to take him back.

Crowley blinked, and Dean thought he caught something hopeful in his expression. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yeah.” He managed a small smile. “If you’re still interested.”

Crowley’s expression was unreadable. “What changed?”

“Uh… actually, Sam helped me realize that I’ve kinda had a thing for you this whole time. I’ve just been so caught up in trying to save him that I wasn’t able to see it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Okay, the second half of that made sense. I’m pretty sure Sam’s still dead, though.”

“Yeah, he is,” Dean sighed sadly. “And he’s staying that way. Cas brought him to visit me in my dreams last night, and the bastard made me promise I’d stop trying to save him.”

His eyes widened. “You actually got to talk to him?”

“Yeah…” The corners of his lips pulled up slightly. “And he’s happy – that’s all I could ever want for him…. We were totally right about him and Cas, too.”

“Knew it.” A small smirk formed on his face as he took a step closer. “So… tonight, then?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Sorry for being an idiot.”

“I knew you were an idiot when I asked you out. Clearly, I’m prepared to deal with it.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible flirt.”

“You haven’t even seen me try.”

“Yeah?” He smirked slightly. “So, when am I gonna get to see that?”

“Tonight, if I’m not too disgusted by your eating to manage.”

“Well, maybe I’ll be too disgusted by you to flirt.”

“I’ve seen you flirt. That’ll be a mercy.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “You know, I’m starting to think you flirt through insults.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow. “I insult you quite a lot,” he pointed out.

“Exactly.” He snapped his fingers to point at him.

He sighed. “Shouldn’t we be going? I have a date to plan for, after all.”

“Who says you’re planning it? I asked you.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to a burger joint and a dive bar.”

Dean shrugged. “Fair enough,” he muttered. “But if we go somewhere nice, you’re paying.”

“I intend to.”

So, later that evening found Dean and Crowley sitting across from each other in a moderately nice steakhouse, Dean’s eyes fixed on the menu as he worried his lip.

“You alright?” Crowley asked, and Dean looked up to meet his concerned gaze.

“Huh? Yeah,” he answered a little too quickly, earning him a raised eyebrow. “I just… haven’t been on a date in a while,” he admitted.

“Dean, it’s me.”

“I know. And that’s the thing, it’s _you._ I’m on a date with my best friend, and don’t get me wrong, it’s awesome, but… I don’t know how I’m supposed to act here.”

“You don’t have to act any different. You don’t have to try to impress me, I’m going to want to go home with you no matter what you do…. I’ve already moved back in.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, guess that’s pretty good insurance for me.”

“But even if I hadn’t…” He set his menu down to reach across the table and take Dean’s hand. “I already know you, Dean, warts and all. You’re not going to scare me off.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose. Leave it to Crowley to know exactly what he was thinking and be able to debunk it. He was right. Crowley already knew all of his baggage, he had seen him at his absolute worse, and vise versa. If they were still willing to give dating a chance… maybe this did have a shot at working out. He debated for just a second before he stood up halfway, so that he could lean over the table to kiss him.

When he pulled back, Crowley had a mildly surprised smile on his face. “Hmm.” He licked his lips. “Yes, I think you’re behaving just fine.”

“Just wait till we get home.” A second after the words left his mouth, he blinked in surprise at himself. He wasn’t even sure what all was on the table for them tonight. Sure, Dean was never usually one to move slow, but he also wasn’t usually one for trying to establish a long-term relationship with a friend. What would be considered too fast here?

Crowley raised his eyebrows slightly. “I look forward to it.” He smirked, and Dean relaxed slightly. Well, at least he wasn’t out of line. Something still must have shown on his face, though, because Crowley’s smirk softened to a smile. “But no pressure.”

Dean returned the smile gratefully. “Let’s just get through dinner first.”

The waitress came around a short while later to give them their drinks and take their dinner orders.

“How are you holding up?” Crowley asked a few seconds after she walked away.

Dean sighed, knowing that they were no longer talking about the date. They had talked more about Sam after they had gotten back to the bunker; Crowley had helped Dean repair some of the damage that had been done to the library through Dean’s frantic research, and Dean had made the calls to Kevin and Jody to let them know that Sam was really gone and that he’d be burning the body in a couple of days, if they wanted to come down.

“We don’t have to do the date tonight,” Crowley had said softly as Dean stood in the doorway of Sam’s old room.

It had taken Dean a couple seconds to answer. “If we stay home, I’m just gonna dwell on it. I need to get out, get my mind off things.”

“Look at you learning.”

He had managed a small smile as he looked at him. “C’mon. No point in keeping the TV in here. Help me move it to my room.”

Now Dean shrugged his shoulders slightly as he fixed his eyes on his beer. “I hate it. I hate that I’m never going to get him back. But even if I hadn’t promised… after seeing how he is now, with all the shit that was wearing him down taken away… I couldn’t take that peace from him.”

Crowley nodded. “Putting his needs above yours… see, I told you you’re a good person.”

He snorted. “I might need your help holding me to that on the bad days.”

He squeezed his hand. “I’ll be there.”

The rest of dinner passed surprisingly naturally. Dean wasn’t sure why he had figured it would be awkward, he just hadn’t been sure how taking this jump with Crowley would feel. But as it turned out, it felt pretty great. If possible, it felt even more natural than all the times they had gone out to dinner as friends – maybe because Dean was finally being honest about what he really felt.

“So…” Crowley raised his eyebrows questioningly, looking at Dean out of the corner of his eyes as they walked into the bunker a couple hours later.

Dean hesitated. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t spent the whole drive home trying to figure out what would happen when they got back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still nervous as hell about it. “How about we go to my room? Watch some TV?”

He smiled. “Alright. You want to find something to watch, and I’ll get us some drinks?”

“You’re awesome.”

Crowley pulled him down into a quick kiss before walking off to the kitchen, and Dean found that he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he made his way to his room. He turned on the TV and found some show on Netflix that looked interesting, then kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed. Crowley arrived a minute later and joined him.

Dean gratefully accepted the beer Crowley handed to him as the show began, taking a big swig of it to calm his nerves. It was ridiculous, he had been in bed with Crowley before, but this was different – he could feel the nervous energy radiating between them, and he was sure that soon enough he wouldn’t be able to hear the TV over his pounding heart.

“You’re cute when your nervous,” Crowley said softly after a minute.

Dean could feel his cheeks heating up. “I’m not nervous.”

“Darling, please, there may as well be a neon sign declaring it.”

He sighed as he set his beer down on the nightstand. Might as well get it out there, he supposed. “Look, I-”

“Dean,” Crowely interrupted him, placing his hand on his thigh. Dean was sure he meant it to be soothing, but it was definitely not helping matters. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“Yeah, but I want to. I just… I’ve never been with a guy before,” he mumbled quickly, his words running together.

Crowley arched an eyebrow at him. “I had guessed as much. Did you think that would matter to me?”

“No, I just – um… do we – uh – discuss roles, or…?”

To his credit, Crowley tried very hard not to laugh, and he mostly succeeded, aside from the twitch of his lips. “Did you have a preference?” he asked gently.

Dean could feel himself growing redder. Normally, he had no aversion to talking about sex, but that was when he felt that he had the advantage of experience. This was different. “Uh… did you?” he asked to avoid having to answer.

Crowley eyed him thoughtfully before setting his beer down on the nightstand and turning to face him more fully. “Frankly, I’d like to fuck you,” he said bluntly.

Dean wasn’t sure what his face was doing as he tried to form words, and he decided that he probably didn’t want to know. His tongue darted out over his lips as he nodded. “That works.” If his expression didn’t betray how much he liked that idea, his voice definitely did.

Crowley smirked as he pulled him into a kiss. It started off gentle, but soon grew more heated, Crowley’s teeth pulling at Dean’s bottom lip as he pushed him back and rolled on top of him. His hand slipped under the hem of Dean’s shirt as his lips trailed down his neck. A small moan escaped Dean’s lips as Crowley bit down on his skin, and he pressed up against Crowley’s thigh.

Suddenly, Crowley pulled back. Dean looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a little rougher than usual.

“I…” Crowley took a deep breath, his eyes locked on Dean’s chest. “The last time I had sex, I was a demon. I didn’t think it would matter, but… well, I’m falling into familiar thought patterns – the only difference is I have more concern for your wellbeing than I would have had back then.”

“Hey.” Dean rolled onto his side and took hold of Crowley’s hands. “I trust you, you know that, right? Even though you’re not a demon anymore, it makes sense that you might have some of the same kinks, but like you said, you care now, and that’s what makes the difference.”

“It’s more than that, Dean.” He was still refusing to make eye-contact with him. “I get off on power, and I’ve felt powerless ever since I became human. But just then, that rush of power… I feel like I’m using you to feel powerful again.”

“Is that a bad thing? I mean, obviously if that was all this was for you, but I know it’s not. You care about me, and if I also help you get your power fix, I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

He finally looked at him, his eyes cautious. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Hell, being powerless to you sounds kind of hot. But if you’d rather take it slow, that’s cool, too.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow, a small smile turning up his lips. “That so?” He kissed Dean softly, licking his lips as he pulled back. “Well… shall we pick up where we left off, then?”


	12. Mourning and Gratitude

Dean woke up with Crowley spooning him, the arms wrapped around him making him feel more secure and content than he felt he had any right to feel, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.  The boner pressing against his ass made him feel other things, though – and again, he definitely was not complaining. He rocked back and heard a slight intake of breath behind him that confirmed that Crowley was awake.

“Morning,” Crowley murmured, pressing his lips to Dean’s neck.

“Mm, morning.” He rocked back again, and Crowley’s hand slid down to grip his hip firmly, holding him still. He glanced back at him, a smirk playing at his lips. “Something wrong?” he asked innocently.

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “Not at all. I just hope for your sake that you plan on doing something about this teasing.”

Dean arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what would you have me do?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things.”

“Yeah?” He rolled around to face him. “I’m intrigued.” He leaned in for a kiss, which Crowley quickly took control of, pulling Dean in closer as he kissed him fiercely. They weren’t going to be stopping anytime soon – until they heard the sound of the door opening.

“Dean, are you – oh.”

Dean rolled over to see Castiel standing in the doorway.

“Sorry, I did not realize you were occupied,” he apologized before his gaze landed on the man behind Dean. “It is good to see that you are back, Crowley.”

“Aw, I missed you, too,” Crowley teased as he wrapped an arm around Dean waist. “Just be glad you didn’t walk in five minutes later.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You need something, Cas?”

“I was just checking in. It is good to see you smiling again.”

His grin grew slightly. “It's good to have reason to smile. Seriously, man, thank you for bringing Sam into my dream. Talking to him was… I needed that.”

“I know. The idea occurred to me some time ago, but the way you were sleeping every time I tried was not conducive to visiting your dreams.”

He nodded. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Castiel took a step backwards. “Since you are doing well, I will be on my way.”

“Wait a second. There’s something that I want to talk to you about… after I get some clothes on.” Dean could practically feel Crowley’s disappointment radiating off the body behind him.

Castiel seemed to notice, too, as his gaze flickered briefly back to Crowley. “I can come by again in the afternoon, if you would like.”

“I think that would be best,” Crowley answered before Dean could so much as open his mouth.

Dean chuckled as Castiel nodded and vanished from the room. “Trying to make up for lost time?” he teased as he turned to face Crowley again. Crowley stopped him halfway, rolling on top of him.

“Something like that.”

By the time they got up and around, it was coming up on lunch time. Dean hadn’t been doing so well lately on keeping the kitchen stocked, so Crowley offered to go into town to get them something to eat.

“You don’t have to – I’ll do it.”

Crowley shook his head. “You should call your angel back – lecture him about dating your brother.”

Dean chuckled slightly at how Crowley knew exactly what he had wanted to talk to Castiel about. “I’m lecturing an angel about dating my dead brother – what has my life come to?”

“You’re also dating the former King of Hell,” Crowley added with a grin.

“I repeat, what has my life come to?”

He just smiled and kissed him. “Be back soon, darling.”

The corners of Dean’s lips turned up as he watched him leave the room. Even when his life had entered a whole new level of weird, he still would have never seen this coming. Hell, he never would have figured that he’d ever be happily in a relationship, let alone with Crowley.

“Hey, Cas,” he prayed once Crowley was gone. “I’m free now, if you can talk.”

A few seconds later, Castiel appeared in front of him. “I can talk. Also, I am sorry for this morning.”

Dean shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Just, uh… you might want to start knocking.”

“I will.” He gave him a small smile. “I am glad that you and Crowley are together – I think he is good for you.”

“Thanks,” he said with a grin. “But speaking of people being good for each other. You and Sam.”

He inclined his head. “What about us?”

“You’d better take good care of him,” he said firmly. “If I find out you hurt him – and I _will_ find out – I will kill you.”

The corners of Castiel’s lips turned up slightly. “Of course. Should I hurt him, I would not stop you.”

Dean nodded. “Good.” He brought his hand up to clap him on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you two.”

“Thank you, Dean. I am glad you approve.”

“’Course. Don’t think either of you could do any better than each other.”

“There I disagree. He could do far better than me, but I appreciate the sentiment, all the same.”

Dean shook his head. “You’re one of the best guys out there, Cas. You’re like a brother to me – now even more so…. And I’m sorry for everything I put you through these past few months. I should’ve listened to you.”

Castiel shrugged. “I understood. I have always admired your determination, but you do often run the risk of taking it too far.”

“And I did. You know, some part of me knew you were right, but I didn’t want you to be, so I took it out on you. I’m sorry, man.”

“I, of course, forgive you. I am just glad that you are finally allowing yourself to be happy.”

He shrugged. “I’m getting there, at least.”

“Crowley is a good start.”

“Yeah, he is,” Dean agreed with a smile. “I’ll take it that you and Sam have been gossiping about us like old ladies, huh?”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I do not know how it makes us like old ladies, but we have talked about the two of you a fair amount. He wanted to know how you were doing, and since Crowley has been such a large part of your life, it was only natural that I spoke of the both of you. When I first told him of how close you and Crowley had gotten, he was incredulous, but as I told him more, he began to ask me if I thought there was something more between the two of you. I am not exactly good at reading those types of things, but after Sam brought it up, I began looking for it, and I began to think that there might be something there.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, you still picked up on it before I did.”

“Your attention was elsewhere.”

“Yeah, it was,” he sighed. “Speaking of which, I’m burning the body tomorrow – figured you might want to be there for it.”

Castiel inclined his head. “Though I still get to be with him, I still mourn his death. I will be there.”

So, the next day, Crowley helped Dean prepare everything for Sam’s funeral, and then the short guest list began arriving.

“I’m really sorry, Dean,” Kevin said, as he joined him at the pyre. “I wish I had-”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” Dean assured, squeezing his shoulder lightly before dropping his hand. “Besides, he’s at peace. I’ve seen him, and he’s happier than he ever was here on Earth.”

“Why does it not surprise me that you’ve seen him since he died?” Jody asked as she approached from behind them.

Dean managed a small smile as he turned around. “Good to see you, Jody,” he said as he gave her a hug. “Thanks for coming. Kevin, this is Jody Mills – the best sheriff out there. And this is Kevin – retired prophet. And, uh, you’ve met Crowley…” he trailed off as he turned to his boyfriend on his other side.

Crowley smiled tentatively. “Sorry about before. Won’t happen again.”

She nodded. “Dean tells me you’re human now.”

“One hundred percent.”

“So, how’s human life treating you?”

He shrugged. “Well, I’m hunting, if that tells you anything.”

“Yes, it does,” she said, while Dean chuckled. Her gaze shifted back to him, as he looked at Crowley fondly. “So, how long has this been going on?”

“What?” Dean frowned slightly as he turned back to her.

She motioned between the two of them. “The two of you dating.”

Kevin’s head snapped in their direction. _“What?”_

Dean turned faintly pink. “Uh… just a couple days.”

“You’re dating _Crowley?”_ Kevin demanded.

“Yes. He’s been there for me through a lot… I don’t know that I would’ve been able to get through these past few months without him.”

“Well, can’t say I blame you,” Jody said. “I did go on a date with him, myself.”

“Yeah, _that’s_ weird to think about.”

She turned to Crowley. “Just be good to him, alright?”

“I promise,” Crowley vowed.

Castiel appeared beside Jody. “Sorry I’m late – I was with Sam.”

Jody turned to him with raised eyebrows.

“Uh, and this is Castiel,” Dean introduced. “The angel who’s dating Sam.”

“I have missed a lot,” she muttered.

“Well, we can catch you up over drinks afterwards. Shall we?”

The fact that Dean was still able to see his brother every night, if he wished, did not make his funeral any easier. He tried to give a sort-of eulogy, but halfway through he got choked up and couldn’t continue. Castiel came to his aid, continuing on to speak of all of the amazing things Sam had done throughout his life and the way he had left the world a better place.

Dean took a deep breath as he stepped forward to light the pyre. “Love you, Sammy,” he muttered as the flames overtook his body. He stood beside it, staring at the flames, unable to look away.

Suddenly, he felt a presence beside him, and Crowley reached out to take his hand. “Thanks for the second chance, moose,” he muttered.


	13. Epilogue: Another Year

Another year of hunting. Another year of close calls, of injuries, of watching people die. Another year of killing monsters, of saving people, of making the world safer.

Hunting wasn’t the best way to live, far from it, but it was what Dean and Crowley needed. Dean needed the familiarity, to lose himself in the hunt to escape the pain in his life. Crowley needed the redemption, to save people to make up for those he had harmed. It wasn’t a good life, but it was what they needed.

Whenever Sam and Dean talked, Sam would ask him if he would ever give it up. “Maybe one day,” Dean would answer, but he had no idea what that one day would look like. How could he ever make the call to stop hunting?

As it turned out, that one day didn’t look so much different from any other. He was driving the Impala, Crowley was sitting shotgun, and they were on their way home from a particularly exhausting hunt. Crowley had nearly died protecting the ghost’s next victim, and Dean had just managed to find the object it was attached to and burn it in time.

“Sam keeps trying to get me to quit hunting,” Dean said out of the blue, after a half hour of nothing but Black Sabbath. It was the first time he had told Crowley, not wanting to bring it up until he was ready to seriously talk about it.

Crowley turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised slightly. “Do you want to?”

He shrugged. “I mean, there’re other hunters out there. The world doesn’t need us…. I don’t know if I could do it, but I’d be willing to give it a shot, if you are.”

He thought about it for several minutes, and Dean waited patiently for him to respond. “I think I’d like to.”

Dean didn’t need a fancy career – he managed to find a job at an auto shop, even with his shoddy background. Crowley, on the other hand, would never be happy in anything other than corporate business, and that would require a little more to get him in.

Within a few weeks, Dean managed to pull on some connections to get the paperwork necessary to create a new identity for Crowley.

“Alright,” Dean muttered as they sat down at the library table together. “Are you gonna have Crowley be your first or last name?”

“First,” Crowley answered without hesitation.

“Okay, so what do you want for your last name?”

He looked thoughtful for a couple seconds, before he grinned. “How about Winchester?”

Dean snorted and looked at Crowley, waiting for him to laugh. He didn’t. “You’re serious?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because that’s a crappy proposal!”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, fine,” he sighed. He got up from his chair, and then got down on one knee, pulling a ring out of his pocket. “Dean Winchester, will you marry me?”

Dean blinked, his mind playing catch-up as he processed the fact that this wasn’t a joke or an idea Crowley had on a whim. “Wait… you were really planning on proposing?”

“Obviously. Now, are you going to say yes, or not?”

“Um… yes, definitely yes.”

Crowley smiled as he slid the ring onto Dean’s finger. They both got to their feet, and Dean pulled him into a kiss.

There would not be another year of hunting. The next year would be spent with Dean working at an auto shop, and Crowley starting a job at a major business that he would be running within a few years. Castiel officiated their wedding, and he took the recording up to Heaven for Sam to watch. It wasn’t as good as Dean having his brother at his wedding, but it was good enough. They moved out of the bunker and into a large house, and somewhere along the line they no longer had to try to live a normal life, it just came naturally.

Dean and Crowley Winchester had never thought they were capable of a happy ending, but they got one, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the first fic that I ever plotted out fully before writing, and I hope you enjoyed it. Comments/Kudos are much appreciated!


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